


Rage Against The Dying Light

by The_Saint



Category: Wentworth (TV)
Genre: Angst, F/F, Kidnapping, My First Work in This Fandom, Mystery, Please Don't Hate Me, Psychological Torture, Revenge, Romance, Slow Build, Swearing, Work In Progress
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-04-23
Updated: 2016-07-07
Packaged: 2018-06-04 02:29:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 11
Words: 29,808
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6637327
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/The_Saint/pseuds/The_Saint
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>**Semi AU** (I've seen trailers/promos for season four so this is an alternate timeline/universe).</p><p>Set some time after the explosive fire of season three, the prison has been rebuilt, the lives of staff and inmates begin to return to the usual, mundane routine however the tranquillity is short lived. Vengeance, it would seem, is indeed a dish best served cold</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> *Waves*  
> First time fic for Wentworth so try to resist the urge to kill me! :-/  
> Newcomer to the show and my new obsession, roll on May! And recently converted to the HRM-Freakytits ship :D  
> I don't want inadvertently reveal too much in the opener so bear with me. I'm not perfect but I do try no to have obvious spelling/grammar mistakes.  
> *I own nothing, blah, blah*  
> Ratings and tags may change throughout the course of this fic...  
> Feedback is always welcome
> 
> Umm enjoy...

 

 

 

“Hey,” muttered Liz as she nudged Boomer and then clicked her fingers to signal the attention of Maxine, “What’s wrong with _this_ picture?” she asked and indicated towards the bottom of the table where Doreen sat, her smile was similar to that of the Cheshire cat from Alice in Wonderland, positively beaming grin that could have touched each ear.

“I recognise _that_ smile...the cat that indefinitely got the cream.” Said Maxine with a wink and smirked into her plastic coffee cup

“If I didn't know any better, I’d say that you are absolutely glowing.” Observed Liz, raising an eyebrow, expecting an explanation from her friend

“You preggers?” interrupted Boomer, with her trademark scowl

Everyone turned towards Boomer, all speechless until Doreen burst into laughter, “Really?”

“Well?” pushed Maxine

“It's my Nash,” beamed Doreen, her smile getting wider, if that was at all possible, “he’s coming in for a visit, and hopefully he’ll have more pictures.”

“Doreen Anderson!” gasped Liz in an overly dramatic fashion, “Blimey, I didn't think you were the type...dirty pictures, how’d you get ‘em past the screws?”

Liz cackled when Doreen playfully slapped her arm, “NO! He’s been busy decorating...getting his place ready for me and Joshua.”

“Aww! You’ll be a proper family once you get out of here.” Gushed Maxine

“It feels like forever before we’ll be reunited.” She sighed in frustration

“Hey, maybe you should speak to the Governor?” suggested Liz

Boomer chuckled, “That sour puss...think vinegar tits will give you the time of day?”

Liz frowned at Boomer then wrapped a motherly, protective arm around Doreen’s shoulders, “It couldn't hurt! You've got nothing to lose, right? Maybe plead your case to the board...even get early parole or an appeal on your sentence,” continued Liz, the always logical voice of the group, “I mean, you've practically become the model inmate since the arrival of little Josh here.”

“Nash will be so excited, have you spoken to him recently...on the phone, I mean?” asked Maxine

Doreen instantly felt deflated, “No, he’s been too busy with his new job and decorating....”

Liz frowned; she was able to read her friend like an open book, “What’s wrong, has something happened?”

“Not exactly,” hesitated Doreen as she chewed her bottom lip nervously, “I...I just don’t want to overwhelm him...he’s trying to keep a low profile at work and any money he’s earning...he’s saving for me and little Joshua.”

“When you get released from _here_...you’ll be able to apply for benefits, at least until you’re able to get a job...it’ll be tough but it’ll be worth it, to be a family.” Offered Maxine

Both Liz and Boomer nodded in agreement, Liz squeezed Doreen’s shoulder, offering her unquestionable support, “There’s something else...isn't there?”

“Dor?” pitched in Boomer

Doreen pushed herself away from Liz, turning her back on the three women. Her head remained low, staring down at the stained tiled floor. She sighed loudly and roughly wiped away the slight moisture that had quickly formed in her eyes, on the sleeve of her tracksuit jacket.

“Doreen, you know that you can tell us anything, you know that?” comforted Liz

“It’s his old friends, he told me that they've been harassing him to rejoin their crew....but he’s done his time now...Nash is a free man and has me and Joshua to think about but they want him back!”

Maxine pushed a box of tissues across the table towards Liz and Boomer took it upon herself to make the group fresh cups of tea, there was something oddly comforting in confiding in friends while sharing chocolate biscuits and cups of tea.

“And I can’t do _anything_! Not while stuck in here,” she suddenly lashed out and kicked a cell door which slammed shut, “God! I feel...feel so helpless,” Doreen growled in frustration until she caught a glance of Joshua, he lay in his cot with his arms stretched up towards the toy mobile that slowly twirled in a clockwise motion, “Our Joshua...little Josh,” she turned back towards Boomer, Maxine and Liz, “He really needs a dad in his life, not surrounded by guards and visiting centres...or whatever prison we’ll be visiting Nash in!”

“Hey Dor, Nash is smart and he won’t get involved with his old crew, he’s got a family now. You and Joshua are his priority now.”

“Liz is right; you and Josh are the best things in his life right now.” Smiled Maxine

“Yeah Dor...He won’t risk it!” added Boomer, “Chocolate biscuit?”

Doreen felt herself smile at the offer of chocolate and nodded, “I hope that you guys are right.”

She sipped on her tea and smiled warmly at the women that surrounded her at the table of their cell block, the same women that she considered them as her extended family, her dysfunctional family.

 

* * *

 

 

Doreen sat at a round table with Joshua sitting on her knee, his chubby hands patted the surface of the table, innocently unaware of his surroundings and his mother’s increased irritability as she waited for Nash’s arrival, she glanced at the clock for the umpteenth time.

“Doreen, you okay?” asked Will

She snorted, “Yeah, Nash must've got caught up in traffic or got held up at work.”

“You know the rules...you’ll have to return back to your block, if he doesn't show up.”

“Please...he wouldn't normally do this, Nash adores Josh...He’ll be here! Please, just five...five more minutes.” she pleaded

“Five minutes then you’ll have to leave.” Warned Will

Doreen picked nervously at a rough fingernail, her eyes obsessively watched the door, the only entrance for visitors to enter and leave. Her foot bounced lightly against the thin, well worn carpet which caused her knee to jostled little Joshua which caused him to shriek with laughter and slapped his chubby hands against the surface of the table. She checked the time again, thinking that maybe the clock on the wall was broken or needed batteries then found herself staring out towards the door, "Where are you?" she murmured to herself anxiously

The fact that Nash was _never_ late or at least not without an explanation was a cause for concern for Doreen however as Will escorted her and baby Joshua out from the visitor’s room, she thought about their previous conversations of struggling to avoid his former friends and his new job only paid minimal wage so very often overtime was a necessity especially if he wanted the very best for Doreen and their son.

Her hands trembled as she dialled number for his apartment; her finger toyed with the cord of handset as listened to the constant ringing.

“Pick up, pick up, pick up.” She muttered

“Hey there,” answered a familiar voice

Doreen felt her heart soar with relief, she closed her eyes and a small smile formed at the corner of her lips, his hoarse voice was like music to her ears.

“Sorry but you've missed me...leave a message, cheers.”

Suddenly, her eyes shot open, wide and her heart dropped like a heavy weight, completely unprepared. She blinked several times and willed herself to speak, “Hey...hey Nash...Josh missed a visit from his daddy...um...I...I miss you too.”

Doreen glanced over her shoulder, it was one of those rare occasions that the queue to use the phones was virtually non existent and slyly she quickly dialled Nash’s mobile number however there was no comforting ringing instead his mobile went straight to voice-mail now emotional and defeated, she sulked towards her cell block. Joshua, the life of a baby had fallen asleep and rested peacefully against her chest.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for taking the time to read!  
> Apologies for any spelling/grammar mistakes  
> *looks at watch* roll on May 10th!!!! *EEEKKK*  
> Any/all feedback is greatly appreciated  
> Sorry for the short chapter...mojo is flagging :(

 

 

Vera sat on the edge of the black leather couch and groaned when she removed her shoes, it had been yet another long, stressful shift. She unbuttoned her immaculate white shirt and loosened the black tie, her fingers attempted to massage the knotted muscles in her neck as she had spent a majority of her shift hunched, staring at the computer as she calculated and balanced the budget and staff rota.

The most stressful things in life and Vera was juggling two of them at the same time, moving house and starting a new job although this was not necessarily a new job as such but it was definitely a new role and was made public. Due to an ongoing and very public investigation, it was extremely doubtful that the former Governor would be returning and after much deliberation, they had voted and it was then that Derek Channing personally offered Vera the position as Governor. The prestigious title that she had craved for years, having witnessed a revolving door of candidates come and go, they were unable to last in _that_ chair and now it would be hers.

_“Congratulations, Vera...you've earned this! Do us proud.”_

Change was fast approaching on the horizon, Vera, once the ugly caterpillar throughout most of her life was about to break free from the cocoon and emerge as the beautiful butterfly, the metamorphosis which had started from the first day the former Governor and her mentor, Joan Ferguson had entered Wentworth Prison, was nearly completed.

Vera had decided to sell her childhood home, painful and bitter memories remained within the walls of the empty house as she organised her mother’s possessions, between various charity shop, items that could be recycled and antiques to be valued then sold. Vera sniffed into a tissue as she watched the last of her mother’s belongings, mostly years of hoarding and refusing to part from the past was uplifted and taken to a new destination. The last room of the house to be packed was her own bedroom which contained her entire life and little possessions in the cramped bedroom.

She looked at the dated wallpaper; the pattern had long since faded. The old fashioned styled furniture which had been repaired numerous times, each surface chipped and bashed throughout the years. A tiny wardrobe with a missing handle, the clothes neatly folded and organised, all pale, pastel coloured.

Vera hesitated, her hand twitched as she caressed the material of a nightshirt which was baby pink with a cute teddy bear design of the front of it which had been a gift to Vera for her birthday. Her mother always bought practical gifts never something that her daughter wanted or desired after.

Vera growled as her mind projected a past memory into her conscious thoughts, she cringed as she remembered how her mother berated her and deliberately fractured her minuscule confidence. Rita’s voice resonated and Vera felt the familiar prickling heat of embarrassment, she blinked rapidly and refused to shed any tears for her mother instead Vera lunged forward and threw the contents of the wardrobe into an empty box, ruthlessly she dumped all her clothing and shoes into the box without hesitation or regret.

 

* * *

 

Vera moved into a small but modern apartment, the increase in her salary and small fortune from selling her mother’s home and antique collectables meant that she could completely furnish and decorate the apartment, as well as overhaul and buy an entire new wardrobe of colourful and stylish clothes and shoes then still have plenty of money to put away into savings, for the first time in her life, Vera felt very much comfortable and in control although there was something missing.

Rita Bennett had purposely manipulated and oppressed her daughter, able to force and bend Vera as if she were a puppet; Rita simply had to pull the strings. The job that she loved with a fierce passion was her only means of escape and social interaction besides her mother. Her job was her life, her sole purpose of existence as Vera was always needed at home, no friends or hobbies but now she was the Governor.

Vera smiled, if only her mother could see her now.

But the smile slowly faded, the gnawing sensation returned, Vera had everything she could ever want and yet she felt incomplete.

Vera opened her eyes and cracked her neck; the pain in her shoulders had eased slightly and turned her attention to the handful of mail, mostly consisted of junk mail that would be recycled until a relatively small formal letter caught her fully off guard.

“How is this even possible?” she gasped, re-reading the contents of the letter

 

* * *

 

Doreen impatiently paced her cell, her hands clenched by her sides then reached up and clutched handfuls of hair, her chest heaved as she grumbled, careful not to disturb Joshua who was sleeping. There was a feeble tap on the cell door and Liz popped her head in, “Dor, you okay?”

She shook her head, her hands then fidgeted with the zip of her teal tracksuit jacket.

“What’s wrong?” whispered Liz, noticing that Joshua was sleeping as she entered the cell then pushed the door closed to keep their conversation private

“Nash!” barked Doreen, she paused and squeezed her eyes shut, instantly regretting snipping at her friend, “Sorry Liz, I'm not angry at you.”

“C'mon...have a seat and tell me about it.” replied Liz and patted the bed beside her

“That’s just it...I've heard absolutely _nothing!_ I just don’t understand...and my imagination is running riot...I mean, is he hurt or in trouble? This is the longest we've gone without a visit...a...a phone call...or even a bloody letter.”

“When did he last visit?”

Doreen pointed to the calendar that hung on the wall, “It's been three weeks now...I know that he was taking as much overtime as they were offering,” Doreen smiled as she remembered, “he wanted to decorate Joshua’s room but now I can’t get him on the phone, I've left messages and still nothing. I’ll kill him if he’s gone back to his crew!”


	3. Chapter 3

 

 

 

 

“Ah! Vera, it’s lovely to see you again and how are you?” cheerfully greeted Diane Gregory, her doctor as she gestured for Vera to take a seat

“I-I'm as well as can be expected.” Stuttered Vera, who forced herself to smile, her cheeks hurt from the false facade

“I must apologies for taking up any of your time...oh, I am deeply sorry for your loss, I've only just learnt of your mother’s passing.”

Vera advert her eyes from Diane, staring blankly down at her clasped hands which twitched at the mention of her deceased mother, “Yes, thank you...she...she’s in a better place, now.”

Diane licked her dry lips and cleared her throat in order to shed the awkward tension, “I do appreciate you making this appointment to see me.”

Vera nodded, “Ah, yes!” she answered confidently, “your letter did have a certain air of urgency to it although I'm not exactly sure why you've asked me here. My recent appointment with the phlebotomist was only a few weeks ago...unless you need _more_ blood.”

Diane shook her head, “No, not more blood tests...for now _but_ , well...I had assumed that you...”

Vera’s eyes widened at her doctor’s sudden hesitation, “You assumed _what?_ ” she demanded and clenched her hands, knuckles quickly appeared white as if to contain her emotions

“Well, I had assumed that you sought after a second opinion or began to conduct your own research...which is common for patients to do,” she bravely paused and indicated with her hand towards a thick manila envelope on the desk between herself and Vera, “this contains the details of an upcoming clinical trial for patients with Hepatitis C, who are on protease inhibitor antiviral medication, similar to what you've been prescribed since your diagnosis.”

Vera felt her throat constrict sharply which caused her to gasp; she strained to concentrate on Diane’s further and detailed explanation regarding the urgent appointment and then began to inform Vera of the previous Hepatitis C clinical trials. Momentarily, she closed her eyes and firmly pinched the bridge of her nose to distract herself from the potential tears which threatened to break free.

Perhaps the light at the end of this tunnel was a glimmering source of hope for Vera although she was loathed to be optimistic, she had learnt that lesson the hard way.

“The research and clinical trials are still in the early processes but overall the results are looking very promising.”

Vera blinked rapidly and allowed herself to slump against the chair, “Could-C...could you...what’s happening? How did I _even_ get selected...I didn't even know of any hepatitis clinical trials.”

Diane frowned, it had not been the reaction that she had anticipated but she could understand Vera’s reservations, “That’s what I can’t quite understand myself...I assumed you’d done your homework and somehow got yourself involved but I can see that’s not the case....the bureaucracy of these, it tends to be not what you know but who you know...friends in high places, Vera?”

Vera frowned and glanced at her watch

“I've briefly read the previous trails and the latest research also your medical records...I'm positive that you could greatly benefit from participating in this.”

“Participating...you mean guinea pig?”

Diane sighed, “I know you’re sceptical _but_ I’d advise you to at least let the facts speak for themselves and read through this,” she handed Vera the envelope, “it’ll provide you with everything you need to know before committing to making a final decision.”

 

* * *

Vera marched confidently towards her car while she clutched the envelope to her chest as if it were a lifeline, her hands trembled at the possibility as a cure, no more sickening side effects from the antiviral medications or the regular blood tests that made her feel like a human pin-cushion. She fumbled impatiently, blindly around the contents of her handbag in search of her car keys.

“Aw shit!” she cursed as the key fell into a shallow puddle, it was just typical of her luck.

She groaned at her own clumsiness and retrieved her wet keys; she used a tissue to quickly dry the car keys and her hands. Vera grabbed the handle of the door but suddenly froze; she glanced nervously over her shoulder and surveyed the car park, her many dedicated years as a prison guard had taught to trust her instincts.

A wave of goose-bumps rippled over her skin which caused her to shudder involuntarily, the hairs on the back of her neck rose.

Vera quickly got into her car and locked herself in, her eyes, suspiciously continued to observe the other cars which were parked, a few people heading into the doctor’s surgery or leaving and two elderly couples, who walked hand in hand but nothing appeared out of the ordinary. She frowned and shrugged perhaps this was another unwanted side effect of her medication.

 

* * *

 

There was a demanding series of knocks at the office door which rattled Vera back into reality, she cleared her throat and swiftly rearranged her desk, hiding the documents regarding the Hepatitis C clinical trials that last thing she needed was rumours of a sick or weakened Governor, another painful nickname would be awarded to her, “Come in.” She finally called

Once again, Vera assumed a false smile as Linda bounced into her office, her features appeared flustered, nervous even.

“Ms Miles?”

“Preemptive!” gasped Linda, “It’s Anderson, and she’ll kick off once she learns about it! It’s on Channel sixteen.”

Vera raised an inquisitive eyebrow, she aimed the remote control at the small flat screen television where Channel sixteen news crew where reporting live from what appeared to have been the scene of a recent accident.

“...from what we can establish, there was a serious incident which is still under investigation but an exclusive report from channel sixteen is that the driver responsible for this tragic crash which has cost a young family their lives, has yet to be formally identified but the car is reported to be owned by a Mr Nash Taylor, who is thought to have been recently released from prison...police are appealing to anyone who may have any information to get in contact, for further developments regarding this tragic accident stay tuned or you can visit our website...over to Sally for the weather...”

Vera closed her eyes and slowly shook her head, “Shit! Where’s Anderson now?”

Linda stared at the television, “H-Block is on work detail...she _should_ be in laundry.”

“Get her and bring her to my office but keep it casual...inform medical, she may require sedation.”

Linda reluctantly nodded, turned on her heel and left. Vera chewed the bottom of her lip as her thoughts were caught in a frantic whirlwind as to how she could possibly gently break the news to Doreen, who was months away from parole. Her fist pounded the desk, “Fuck.” She cursed, angry at the complicated situation which she found herself in

In one swift motion, Vera swept the clutter from her desk into a drawer and locked it, the key secured in the inside pocket of her jacket. She neatly rearranged her desk and composed herself as the echoes of approaching footsteps neared her office.

Vera swallowed nervously.  


	4. Chapter 4

 

 

 

Vera straightened her posture at the approaching sound of footsteps that echoed throughout the empty corridor, her arms crossed over the front of her chest, Linda stood by her side as they both observed a heavily sedated Doreen from the window.

She cleared her throat, “Keep me informed of any changes.” Ordered Vera, momentarily glancing at Rose Atkins, the prison’s nurse then continued to watch the medicated prisoner who had been sedated as she suffered from an emotional breakdown upon learning the news that her partner Nash Taylor had died in a terrible accident.

“Of course, Governor.” Replied Rose, she returned to the bedside of her patient and closed the curtains to allow some privacy

At a sideways glance, “Ms Miles, could you inform the rest of H-Block of the current condition of Anderson,” she paused abruptly and Linda glanced at her superior, mentally Vera chastised herself for the oversight of the youngest addition to the prison, “and make sure Birdsworth knows that her duties now include caring for Joshua.”

“Yes, Governor.” Answered Linda as she paused, sympathetically glancing through the gap in the curtain at Doreen before she headed down the corridor towards H-Block. 

* * *

 

Vera returned to the safety and silence of her office which remained largely unchanged from the previous Governor, still devoid of personal belongings on display, the appearance of the office served the purpose of appearing clinical, where no-one, be it inmate or staff alike wanted to spend any more time other than what was necessary in the sterile surroundings.

She unlocked the drawer of her desk and pulled out the chaotic paperwork that had been unceremoniously concealed when Linda had interrupted her reading of the Hepatitis C clinical trials and carefully reorganised the documents before continuing to read, occasionally jotting phrases and questions that she would need to further research online or ask her doctor before committing to a final decision.

The silence and concentration was interrupted by the sudden ringing of the telephone which caused Vera to snap out from her dedicate reading, she dropped her pen onto the messy notepad and snatched the hand-piece, “Hello,” she barked impatiently then closed her eyes, it had been a totally unprofessional way to answer the phone, “this is Governor Bennett,” she corrected, her tone much lighter

She opened her eyes and listened but whoever was on the opposite end of the phone did not speak, there was just silence, “Hello? I think there’s a bad connection...hello?”

There was a click and annoyingly Vera slammed the phone down then returned to her reading. She sighed tiredly as she made wrote down another question on the notepad and glanced at her watch, even though her day had started earlier than her normal routine which had the potential news to lighten her mood and provide optimism, she was rapidly losing patience and her shift could not finish any sooner.

The heartbreaking reaction of Doreen Anderson as Vera had the difficult task of informing her of the accident which caused the death of her partner and baby’s father had been the beginning of the downward spiral for her shift as Doreen erupted from her seat, throwing the chair at Linda then lunged towards Vera, who was the messenger and in Doreen’s eyes was to blame. Vera dodged a punch but Doreen quickly crumpled, her knees trembled and gave away, her face buried into her hands as the unrelenting tears burst like a dam, Vera silently shook her head at her colleague who reached for her radio to summon assistance. Linda remained by the door but was prepared for the worst.

The Governor kneeled down and joined Doreen on the carpeted floor then awkwardly attempted to comfort the distressed inmate. At first, Doreen tensed as she felt an arm cradle her; she slowly looked up from her hands and saw Vera. She buried her head into the lapel of her jacket, Doreen sobbed loudly into her chest, her crying muffled and Vera tightened her grip, offering reassurance and comfort.

Doreen was sedated, appearing in a catatonic state as she was guided out of the office by the attending doctor who had administered the medication, Rose and Linda. She glanced at her watch, her appointment with General Manager, Derek Channing had been pushed back on several occasional and was long overdue but despite both parties rearranging their hectic schedules to allow for the meeting, it appeared that once again something urgent had the manager’s immediate attention. Vera was frustrated, it would have been common courtesy to inform her of the cancelled meeting or if he was simply running late but to just not bothering to show up, it irked her.

She scrolled through her list of contacts in her mobile phone and selected the name of Derek Channing but her call went straight to voice mail.

“Mr Channing, its Governor Bennett, unless you’re purposely avoiding my call...you are aware we had an appointment to discuss various points from the last meeting...but it would seem that something else had taken priority. We _need_ to discuss these ongoing issues or at least phone me back when it’s convenient for _you._ ”

Impatiently, her fingers tapped against the cool surface of the desk then reached for the telephone, “Yes, can you connect me to Mr Channing’s office, thanks.”

“Good afternoon, Mr Channing’s office, how can I help?” answered the secretary; she greeted a little too enthusiastically which did not help Vera’s current mood

“Hello, this is Governor Bennett, is Mr Channing there?”

“I'm sorry Governor...but Mr Channing hasn't been in the office, I do recall him leaving for a meeting this morning but he hasn't returned. I have his schedule for the entire week, right in front of me, would you like me to take a message or make another appointment?”

Vera sighed wearily, “No, no thank you...I know just how _busy_ he is, these day,” she snipped sarcastically, “I suppose, I’ll try my luck again at some point during the week.”

She hung up the telephone, “Ignorant prick.” Murmured Vera

 

* * *

 

“Vera Bennett?” purred a voice, “Now, that’s a blast from the past...it’s not the same little Vera who turned me down....she was in a dedicated relationship with her studying and books?”

Even through the phone, she felt her cheeks reddened and cleared her throat to find the confidence to answer, “Yes...only that relationship is over...now married to this new role as Governor.”

“Well, congratulation is definitely in order then... _Governor_ Bennett, it does have a certain ring to it and if I had known sooner then I’d have personally invited you out for a celebratory dinner.”

She chewed the bottom of her lip, “Actually, this isn't a social call.”

“What, no foreplay? Just straight to business, that hurts me Vera.” He flirted

“Eric,” she warned, “I need to ask for a favour.”

“ _Well,_ if that just isn't music to my ears,” he grinned wickedly, “But, what’s in it for _me?_ ”

“Look, it’s not for me....consider this a compassionate favour, the investigation, I hear that you’re in charge and well...I have a prisoner who was the partner of Nash Taylor, they have a child together...I’d appreciate it if you could delay the announcement of the investigation, you know...the final findings. I just don’t want her to learn about it via the media and the tabloid vultures. It-it wouldn't be fair.”

“You haven’t changed...I thought that being Governor would have hardened you but here you are, still the same caring little Vera...but,” he paused for effect

“But what?” she questioned

“That’s a pretty big favour to ask of me....but leave it with me; I’ll see what I can do...however, that means you _owe_ me.”

“Of course,” she replied relieved, “Of course, whatever you want.” Tumbled out the sentence before Vera could control her thoughts and cringed heavily

“Oh, really...well that’s hardly an offer I could refuse now! How about dinner, tonight? It’s been a while since we spoke so consider this as a reunion.”

In all honestly, Vera had originally planned to finish her shift perhaps even escape slightly earlier and enjoy a hot, relaxing bath with a large glass of Cabernet Sauvignon, “I-I can’t...I have too much w-work and...”

“Vera, you’re the Governor now, so delegate the workload.”

Reluctantly, she found herself backed into a corner and nodded, “Fine! You win, you wore me down...so dinner, what time?” she conceded

“Aw! Don’t say it like that Vera....seven o'clock and not a minute later, I know of a place we can go...pick you up?”

 

* * *

 

Linda waited in the queue to sign out at the end of her shift; Fletch scrawled his signature in the log book then handed his pen to Linda. Vera witnessed as he learned against her back, his thumb made small circle patterns on her hip as he whispered something into her ear. Linda chuckled at the private joke and playfully swatted his muscular arm then quickly signed herself out.

“Ms Miles,” called Vera as she exited through the automatic doors as Linda waved at Fletch, she slowed her pace to allow Vera to catch up with her, “it’s none of my business what happens between colleagues but it’s obvious that you a-and Mr Fletcher...”

Linda adjusted the shoulder strap on her handbag, “You’re right! It is _none_ of your business.” she interrupted Vera

“Linda,” attempted Vera, “Look, I don’t particularly care what colleagues do while off duty however if the relationship were to breakdown and effect your abilities to work together then I would _have_ to intervene.”

Linda bit the inside of her cheek and took a step closer towards Vera; her posture straightened and placed her hands firmly on her hips, “I seem to recall the shit storm between you and Fletch...jealously is a colour that doesn't suit you, _Governor_.” Retorted Linda and put emphasis of Vera’s job title.

“I'm just warning you...the both of you. Don’t bring your personal issues into _my_ prison.”

Linda took a step back and laughed at the audacity, “You’re unbelievable, give it up Vera...she’s not around anymore...so stop trying to imitate _her,_ ” she snapped and went to walk away, “What we do in our personal lives is certainly none of your business, so keep your interfering nose out from other people’s business...why not put that dedicate energy to good use and focus on your own life...dating any other imaginary men these days?”

 

* * *

 

Vera carefully inspected herself in the fully length mirror, finally satisfied with her outfit choice, her bedroom looked like her wardrobe had exploded over the queen sized bed as she obsessed to find the perfect outfit for dinner. Vera toyed with her hair uncertain what type of style would compliment her outfit but eventually opted to wear her hair down for the evening, her soft brunette hair curled at her shoulders. She leaned closer towards the mirror and applied a subtle layer of lipstick and genuinely smiled, Vera stepped back from the mirror and twirled in a small circle which caused her to laugh and smile widely as she could image her mother’s shocked and disgusted reaction at her daughter’s new found confidence, style of clothes and unladylike behaviour.

The sound of the doorbell suddenly made Vera nervous about going out to dinner with a friend, she frowned and looked at herself, and maybe agreeing to going out with Eric was not such a good idea anymore. She was about to wipe the lipstick off when the doorbell rang again.

Vera opened the door and was instantly surprised to be greeted by an impressive bouquet of colourful flowers, large bright roses and a paler shade of calla lilies arranged in a glass vase with a bold yellow bow which tied together the display of flowers.

“Ms Bennett?” asked a voice from behind the bouquet

Vera nodded, unable to find her voice, she was completely shocked by the unexpected arrival at her front door, “Um, yes...yes, that’s me.”

“Lovely flowers, if you could just sign here, please.”

She quickly signed the touch-pad recording device, her hands trembled with nervousness and excitement at receiving such a beautiful gift, no-one had ever sent her flowers before and her mother would never allow real flowers into the house unless they were artificial, she complained that she was highly allergic and oversold her act by sneezing and rubbing her eyes until they watered.

“Oh, thank you.” She called after the florist delivery man and closed the door with her high heeled shoe

Vera placed the glass vase containing the beautiful flowers on the kitchen island then stood back to admire the colour. She inched the vase slightly to the left, positioned perfectly. She grinned when she noticed a small white card protruding from the floral display but as she reached for it, her mobile phone rang.

“Hello?” she answered, not recognising the number which flashed on the screen

“Hello Vera, your carriage awaits.” Replied Eric

“How did you get my number?” grilled Vera as she peered out through the blinds

“Rule one-oh-one in our profession, never reveal your sources.” He answered with a wink

Vera grabbed her cashmere pashmina and wrapped it over her bare shoulders and lifted her handbag.

* * *

 

She used the cloth napkin to wipe the moisture from the palm of her hands, “Dinner was delicious, thank you.”

“Think nothing of it, here allow me,” he reached for the bottle of wine and topped up her nearly empty glass, “How does it feel, being the big bad boss now?” he teased

She searched for the most appropriate answer, “It’s different.”

“Vera, this little reunion of ours..." hesitantly he glanced down at his watch then offered an apologetic smile, "I’ll have to cut it short and sadly refuse dessert as I'm watching the calories but also needed back at the office," he sighed, "Sometimes, being the boss of your department isn't all its cracked up to be."

“Oh?” she questioned, raising an eyebrow

“I actually just learnt of it earlier today...I'm being head hunted and there’s just too much to organise especially since we've just concluded our ongoing investigation...Nash Taylor...”

Vera looked around then leaned closer, “And?”

“Check your inbox, it was easier to email you than to spoil this dinner with trading war stories of our work.”

“When are you planning to reveal to the press and families?”

“I can delay until Friday but ideally before I go...it’s only fair to give the families closure and throw a bone out to the piranhas, they tend to make up their own stories in order to cash in on such a tragic accident...damn media!”

“Thank you, I do really appreciate you doing this for me.”

He smiled warmly at her, “I wouldn't do it for just anyone, just you Vera.”

She blushed and shied away, “Thank you for the card and flowers, I love them.”

Eric’s smile slowly disappeared, “Flowers?”

Vera glanced up at him, “You didn't send me any flowers?”

“Sorry but I'm not guilty your honour, scouts honour.” He replied and saluted with three fingers, “Or maybe you have a secret admirer...hidden away somewhere?”

Vera grew redder at the prospect of having a secret admirer, “You know me...the only serious relationship that I'm currently in, is with my work.”

 

* * *

Vera rested lazily against the leather couch and scrolled through her email inbox for the email that Eric had forwarded to her regarding the police investigation that involved the death of Nash Taylor and an innocent family, who under tragic circumstances were at the wrong place at the wrong time.

She sipped her wine that she has opened since arriving back home from dinner and scrutinised the attached reports from those were the first to arrive at the scene, the fire department, two eye witnessed accounts, paramedics and the pathologists findings. Vera frowned, unable to believe the autopsy report as she distinctly remembered how proud and happy Doreen had been explaining to her friends that since serving his time in prison and his release, Nash had been clean and sober for nearly two years yet contradictory to that, the report concluded that his blood alcohol content was double over the limit and the toxicology found evidence of cannabis and katamine in his system.

Vera pinched the bridge of her nose and discarded her phone, unable to read any more sinister details regarding Nash Taylor who had seemingly broke his sobriety and returned to a life of drink and drugs and as a result, he got behind the wheel of his car and collided into another vehicle which careered into an embankment then burst into flames. Nash Taylor was found dead at the scene while the paramedics and fire chew fought to free and save the two children trapped but they were later pronounced dead in hospital, their parents, like Nash were dead at the scene of the accident.

 

Vera yawn loudly before removing her high heeled shoes and left them beside the coffee table, she picked up the wine glass and gulped the remains of the liquid before leaving it in the sink and switched off the light.

She smiled at the bouquet of flowers that she had received before leaving for dinner; the small white card remained tucked beside a rose and carefully retrieved the card without disturbing the arrangement. Vera peeled open the envelope and pulled out the card, she smiled at the design of the card.

_'Congratulations on the new job, change is always difficult but you’ll adapt. I have every faith in you.'_


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I own nothing, etc  
> Who watched the latest episode? I simply cannot wait for the rest. A broken Joan :'( and bravo on Vera, who tore up that letter.  
> This was a difficult chapter to work on so I hope it flows well and doesn't appear as OCC(ness)  
> It's a slow build up....that's all I plan to reveal ;)  
> Feedback is welcomed, forgive any spelling/grammar mistakes.

 

 

It could not, it was not possible and yet somehow it was.

 

Vera mentally attempted to list all probable scenarios of her receiving such a gift other than to assume that it was from _her._ A cruel joke perhaps but then who would have the audacity to spend a small fortune and since Vera had recently moved into her new apartment, she had not updated the records which had not been at the top of her list of priorities so no-one at work knew of her new address _maybe_ this was not even real, it was happening all inside her head, a bad dream.

 _'Yes! That’s it, I'm simply dreaming, this is all but a dream. Mother was right about one thing, I do possess such an active imagination.’_ Reassured Vera mentally and sighed with heavy relief however her momentary sense of reprieve was prematurely short lived when she glanced fleetingly at the card which she clutched between her fingers, the hair on the back of her neck prickled and suddenly a wave of nausea threatened to spoil the lovely meal which she and Eric had enjoyed only a couple of hours beforehand.

 

_‘Congratulation on the new job, change is always difficult but you’ll adapt. I have every faith in you.’_

 

Even though the card was not _officially_ signed by the sender nor did it include a name by the florist, the statement alone confirmed the identity of who was responsible for the extraordinary gift, Vera’s former mentor and superior officer, Joan Ferguson.

 

Vera finally glanced up from the card, looking confused and lost. She scrutinized the authenticity and meaning of the gift, if she had learnt anything it was that Joan Ferguson was a formidable force and did not do things in half measures. Her attention shifted from the card that slowly crumpled in her shaking fist, the beautiful array of colourful flowers and she leaned against the cool granite worktop of the kitchen island for additional support, unable to fully trust her legs to support her weight, her knees threatened to buckle as her legs trembled like that of a newborn lamb that attempted to use its legs for the first time. Her eyes began to spin rapidly like a toy spinning top which further provoked her nausea, opening that bottle of wine after dinner had been a mistake on her part.

She continued to glare at the bouquet of flowers, she felt betrayed by the conflicting mixture of emotions which had lay dormant and now the mere suggestion that it was Joan who had sent her the gift, tentatively reawakened a confusing barrage of memories and emotions.

Vera had always been accused or described as overly emotional, too trusting and wore her heart on her sleeve but with the events of her mother’s demise and the guidance from her former mentor had prepared Vera as everyone soon turned to her for leadership as the fire consumed the prison, it had been a successful evacuation of the staff and inmates then she assumed temporary Governorship as the media sensationalized and caused controversy regarding the escalating costs needed to repair and refurbish the prison. The exact cause of the fire was continuously speculated even after the fire department concluded their investigation, they cited numerous minor faults which were a fire hazard waiting to happen, and it had been only a matter of time. But, amidst the rumours, conspiracies and general gossip mongering by the media, Vera Bennett remained coolly confident and professional throughout the fire investigation, plans for the prison refurbishment and the sensational trial of former Governor of Wentworth Joan Ferguson.

Vera had been preoccupied between the successful sale of her childhood home, a place where her oppressive mother had prevented her daughter from leaving, using emotional blackmail to maintain control over Vera for her own selfish needs despite the suffocating mentally abusive relationship, Vera had once loved her mother unconditionally but this was never reciprocated as Rita demanded her daughter’s complete and unquestionable obedience even when she was diagnosed with terminal cancer, Rita remained equally bitter, growing crueller and tortuous towards her daughter. A lifetime of disappointment, Vera was never able to please the demanding woman.

Her new role as Governor was a fairly easy and hassle free transition since Vera had already been acting temporary Governor for the past few months so when Derek Channing, General Manager finally congratulated and announced that Vera was to become the permanent Governor of Wentworth, her purpose in life was on course and for a brief time, Vera was genuinely happy.

For a period of time that is.

 

* * *

 

Vera had been preoccupied with her personal and professional life that her list of priorities suddenly shifted and changed, sliding into obscurity was gaining the courage to visit Joan although she had briefly visited her just days after the fire, when Joan had been taken to a local hospital where she was treated for minor injuries and smoke inhalation before promptly being assessed and admitted into a psychiatric ward for ongoing treatment. Joan had been deemed mentally unfit and incapacitated due to the prescribed medication that the doctors were giving her, granted they did openly admit that the initial dosages were too potent and until the dose could be carefully monitored then Joan was technically unfit to stand trial for an impressive list of crimes that she accused of orchestrating.

It felt very familiar after all, Vera had visited her fellow colleague Matthew Fletcher while he had been unconscious in the intensive care unit and then while he was in the rehabilitation unit after his ‘accident’ and despite everything that occurred between herself and Joan, Vera felt a compassionate urge to visit her, partially out of curiosity as is the want of a mouse but more so to gain closure although what Vera witnessed was the very woman that she had placed upon a pedestal, she admired her both personally and professionally but Vera was not fully prepared for what she saw in the psychiatric unit. It had been more than a colossal fall from said pedestal and it was all too evident that Joan was not herself, the sight of the mentally broken woman was too painful for Vera and she could only stomach a single visit which lasted mere minutes but running, panic stricken from the unit and into the fresh air of the main entrance. She had promised to visit again perhaps in that time there would be improvement or that Joan would at least know that Vera had visited her but another visit to the psychiatric unit never happened.

A few days after Derek Channing’s announcement that Vera took her rightful place and sat behind the desk in her office, her thoughts recalled the last time she had been in this office, the working partnership between Deputy Governor and Governor unravelled and was obliterated by wild accusations of betrayal then lies and finally deception. _But_ Vera had been warned by her colleagues as they observed the radical change in the Deputy Governor both in appearance and her cold demeanour as she strived to impress her superior, she had been blinded by the formidable power and confidence that emitted from Joan, her aura pulsated an air of dark mystery and intimidation that Vera found oddly alluring and soon she found herself following the taller woman like her faithful pet, an annoying sidekick yet when she confessed her recent diagnosis of Hepatitis C caused by an accidental needle-stick injury during the riot, she felt Joan pull away and attempted to subtly wipe her hand on a napkin for fear of contamination although Vera was silently hurt by the sudden loss of contact, she had observed some obsessive compulsive disorder tendencies such as the overuse of alcohol hand sanitizer, disinfectant wipes and the immaculate layout of her desk. What truly pained Vera was when Joan openly threatened to annihilate her as she feverishly clutched the sole remaining picture of an unknown, younger woman and when Vera found the inner courage to stand and defend herself, she was struck. Joan had actually physically attacked her with an agile and precise slap that rendered Vera speechless while Joan continued to stare at her with utter disgust and contempt however Vera’s double shift went from bad to worse as an urgent last minute meeting was called by the Governor and all staff were ordered to be present in the staff-room where Vera was publicly humiliated in front of her colleagues when Joan proceeded to reveal the deputy’s Hepatitis C diagnosis and lost her complete faith and trust in the Deputy Governor then to add further insult to injury, she was demoted in front of a stunned crowd.

It was then that Vera finally opened her eyes to the reality that she been previously blinded to or failed to acknowledge. She had been berated, questioned and pushed until she found herself backed into a tight corner with no means of escape and still _she_ came at her, always demanding more every time, demanding result and perfection until Vera’s devotion and dedication to her job were no longer acceptable, there was only one course of action and that was to fight fire with fire. Vera presented her evidence to the board regarding her superior’s inappropriate behaviour and questionable actions which made Vera feel like a traitor but the mounting evidence and statements from various members of staff and inmates alike could no longer be ignored. The General Manager, Derek Channing offered his unwavering support for Vera who helped her regain some of her shattered confidence.

Why now, after all this time?

Her jaws clenched tightly together, she used the pain to her advantage, a fraction of the pain which Joan had caused her. She glared menacingly at the impressive bouquet and pondered their secret meaning, was this supposed to be a genuine gift, a long overdue apology or an olive branch of peace? Either way, Vera knew from firsthand experience that with Joan nothing was as it appeared, she truly was a complex creature and there was a strong possibility of an unknown agenda laced with more deceptions and lies.

Vera glanced around her open planned apartment, everything was suppose to symbolise a new chapter in her life, a fresh start and as far as she was concerned, Joan was part of her past, it is where she belonged.

Despite the obvious expense and overall beauty of the gift, Vera roughly snatched the glass vase which caused water to splash over the granite counter; she marched purposely towards the front door and quickly unlocked it and discarded the gift into the rubbish bin. She watched the glass vase shattered as it landed hard against the bottom of the empty bin, the flowers were mangled and appeared like colourful confetti, Vera crumpled the card that had been included with the flowers and tossed it into the bin.

* * *

 

Vera groaned exhaustedly when the alarm clock sounded, the annoying sound pierced the silence and a hand fumbled over the bedside table in search of the clock, it could not possibly be time to get ready for work, it felt as though she had just closed her eyes. She exhaled loudly at the injustice although she did not normally drink on a school night which in all likelihood was the cause of her tiredness and brewing headache. Her eyes were sensitive, shielding herself from the morning sun that flooded her bedroom with the duvet.

Today was going to feel like the longest shift, she could feel it. It was more than temping to phone into work and feigning a minor sickness bug but her general to do list was lengthy and part of her own obsessive compulsive disorder needed to satisfy accomplishing or productively complete the list before more could be added.

  

 _‘Note to self, don’t drink on a school night! You only have yourself to blame.’_ She chastised herself

She and Eric had shared a bottle of wine during dinner then she proceed to open a bottle of red wine upon arriving home from dinner as she briefly read the forwarded email from Eric regarding the police investigation that concluded Nash Taylor was solely responsible for driving under the influence of alcohol and drugs before crashing his car that resulted in not only his own death but that of a young family.

Somehow, Vera would need to deliver the devastating news to Doreen who remained in a fragile state in the prison infirmary; she may even need to go on suicide watch after the heartbreaking news.

She swayed slightly on her feet as her equilibrium was delayed slightly as she crept towards the bathroom. Her finger gripped the cool porcelain sink with steady and meditative breathing; she inhaled deeply through her nose then slowly exhaled through her mouth. Vera reached to open the medicine cabinet, she happily welcomed the sight of the various medications, a shotgun combination to neutralise the unwanted headache in the form of Paracetamol and Ibuprofen and swallowed the tablets while her dry throat greedily welcomed the refreshing water. Vera looked at the prescribed container of antiviral medication and sighed.

 

* * *

 

“Good morning, it’s Vera Bennett calling for Diane Gregory...I’d appreciate it, if you could call me back regarding the clinical trial...I do have some questions...but all being well then I’d like to participate. Thanks, bye.”

 

Vera scrolled through her mobile phone contacts, “Hello, Derek...you didn't get back in touch and I’d appreciate it if you didn't simply avoid my calls, the sooner we can discuss the inmate incentive programs then the sooner I’ll stop hounding you. Call me back whenever you’re free.”

 

Just as Vera left the voice-mail message for Derek that her mobile phone vibrated angrily, “Hello, Governor Bennett.” She answered while manoeuvring through the traffic.

 

“Good morning,” purred a polite female voice

 

Vera glanced at the screen of her mobile phone, the number was unknown, “Can I help you?”

 

“I hope you can Governor,” she paused, “You may or may not remember me...Hayley Jovanka...I was wondering if you were available for an exclusive?”

 

“I have a busy schedule, Ms Jovanka.”

 

“Oh! That’s a pity.”

 

“Unforeseen circumstances, I have a prison to run, my time is very limited however I'm curious to your phone call, it’s been a while since you and your motley crew of media vultures attempted to soil my name over the press.”

 

“All business, I trust you would understand that... _Governor_.”

 

“Let’s skip pleasantries,” Vera retorted sarcastically, “ _Why_ are you phoning me?”

 

“Oh wow! You _really_ are out of the loop, aren't you?”

 

Vera grew weary of the verbal ping pong, “Goodbye, Ms Jovanka.”

 

“The General Manager...Derek Channing, is his name familiar? It should be after all he announced to the world your appointment as Governor of Wentworth...a tough act to follow your predecessor, no?”

 

“This is relevant how?” demanded Vera growing increasingly impatient which began to reflect in her driving

 

“Derek Channing was reported missing...by his wife when he failed to attend several appointments and conference.”


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WOW! Cannot believe episode three *le gasp*  
> Revenge won't cover it, I don't want to make predictions in case of spoilers!
> 
> Umm! Anyways, I own nothing, etc  
> Pardon any/all spelling/grammar as I'm post night shift and lack of alcohol.  
> Feedback is always good and much appreciated.  
> Contains a flashback scene which may be riddled with inconsistencies, etc but I've been in a courtroom so just had TV  
> and my imagination to go with.  
> I'm not a big fan of own characters (OC) but if you've read up to this point then you'll have noticed I've added some characters, they serve just in minor parts and act as padding for let this piece of mine move forward!  
> Some potty language, so first and last warning! 
> 
> Enjoy x

 

 

“Derek Channing is _missing_ ,” repeated Vera “Is this some sort of hoax?”

“Oh, come now! Governor, where _have_ you been?” Continued the persistent reporter, angling desperately for a story or at the very least confirmation of her lead

“ _My_ priorities is to my staff and the women of Wentworth...and I will not indulge you in this pure fantasy story that you've concocted, Ms Jovanka...I mean really, chasing a non-existent story and harassing people...where is your professional integrity?”

“Very witty especially for someone in your profession _and_ a sharp sense of humour but I digress," Hayley retorted sarcastically then tried from another angle, "...the fact that Derek Channing, General Manager _and_ your boss has been reported missing by none other than his wife...is a cause for concern, would you not agree?”

“Mr Channing, like _all_ members of the board, they have very busy schedules and who’s to say that Mr Channing has either been delayed with connecting flights or that he’s simply taken some time off for himself.” replied Vera, not completely convinced of her own explanation regarding the supposed disappearance of her boss

“I had considered those factors, myself, however in this day and age of technology...are you honestly telling me that he couldn't find even five minutes from his busy schedule to contact his wife?”

“I couldn’t possibly comment on what happens between Mr Channing and his wife.”

“Oh! So you’d go on record stating that there are marital problems?” Hayley eagerly scribbled down notes on the writing-pad  

“I didn't say _that_ ,” snipped Vera, losing the last of her patience, “Now, stop snooping around for a story which doesn't exist.”

“But...”

“Goodbye...again, Ms Jovanka, was lovely chatting with you...again.”

 

* * *

 

Vera was about to throw her mobile phone into her clear bag which sat on the passenger seat when she noticed two new voice-mail messages. The car stopped in heavy traffic which enabled her to chase up the missed calls.

_“Sorry Vera, it seems that we both keep missing each other. If you could make an appointment for whenever is best available for yourself and I’ll make additional time for any questions that way we can further discuss the clinical trial.”_

Vera made a mental note to check her diary once she was in the sanctuary of her office, she would also need to prepare for how she would approach and break the news to Doreen regarding her beloved partner, Nash Taylor which still shocked Vera, considering he was a father and from what she had overheard from Doreen herself as she beamed proudly of Nash’ excitement of having a family, a steady job and successful sobriety with the help of a sponsor and regular group meetings.

She was jarred out of her thoughts when she played the second voiceless message but frowned with concentration and increased the volume yet she still strained to hear anything. The recording seemed was partially inaudible from the sound of traffic in the background and a faint whisper that was obscured. She deleted both messages and threw her phone into her bag before continuing her journey into work.

 _‘If it’s important then whoever it was will probably phone again.’_ Thought Vera

 

* * *

 

“Governor!” growled an angry voice

Vera continued to march on route towards her office but briefly slowed and glanced casually over her shoulder, her one-time fling, if one could best describe whatever the two of them had momentarily shared; Matthew Fletcher leaned against the door-frame of the staff-room.

“If you want to speak to me, Mr Fletcher either make an appointment or address me in the proper fashion.” Replied Vera coldly as she rounded the corner

Her heart fluttered in the tight confines of her chest then began to swell with pride as she continued to march on with confidence, her head held high and shoulders back, if only her former mentor could see how she had grown, no longer the frightened, pathetic mouse of an officer who was intimidated by her own shadow.

She swiped her pass and pushed open the door to her office where the cool air from the air conditioner greeted her, it was a much welcomed reprieve from the humidity. Vera leaned against the closed door. This was indeed going to be the longest shift in history as she felt something brewing on the horizon and silently preyed that the impending storm would dissipate before gaining any form momentum.

The Paracetamol and Ibuprofen helped to fight the affects of the hangover and a caffeine fix boosted her waning energy levels which allowed her to function. It really had been a poor choice and lapse in judgement to have opened that second bottle of wine, a lesson that has been well and truly learnt and swore it would never happen again.

The telephone on the desk rang and brought Vera back to reality, “Um...H-hello, is this Ms Bennett, Governor of Wentworth correctional facility?”

“Yes it is but I don’t _do_ interviews.” She replied irritated that Ms Jovanka, the persistent reporter who would not take the hint

“No! I'm not a reporter!” rushed the voice, “Please, my name is Claudia, Claudia Channing...I'm Derek’s wife.”

Vera felt her mouth dry instantly. She was caught completely off guard, “Oh! H-hello, my apologies...somehow select members of the press have been harassing me and I assumed...well, you can guess the rest. How can I help you, Mrs Channing?”

“I-I don’t know, if I'm at all honest,” she hesitated and took a few moments to collect herself, “I'm just trying to track down Derek’s appointments and meetings over the past week...his schedule shows that you and he had a meeting...”

“Correct, we _were_ supposed to have a meeting but your husband didn't show up and I assumed that as General Manager that something more important required his immediate attention. I have left numerous voice-mail messages but so far...no reply.”

Claudia sighed, exhausted and anxious as the mystery and motive to her husband's disappearance remained unanswered, “I’m sorry to be wasting your time...I seem to be bothering everyone...b-but I-I feel like I’m going out of my mind with worry, he’s never gone _this_ long without getting in touch, what else can I possibly do?” she confessed

“Claudia...Mrs Channing, you need to stay calm, at least for your children’s sake and let the police handle this...I'm sure they’ll find him or that he’ll eventually get in touch.”

“I just don’t want our private lives splashed all over the media...I mean, every married couple faces challenges and have their fair share of issues, right?”

“I wouldn't know.” Vera answered with a sigh, a reminder that she was alone

 

* * *

 

Vera stood in the office of the infirmary, she had finally dared to venture down to medical only further delaying the inevitable, “How’s Anderson?” she asked genuinely concerned

Rose Atkins shrugged her shoulders, “You know...physically she’s well but mentally,” she abruptly stopped and muttered as her pen had ran out of ink while in mid sentence of documenting Doreen’s notes.

“Here, borrow mine.” Offered Vera

“Thanks,” Replied Rose as she finished her notes, “Joshua has been bottle fed since Doreen hasn't been well enough to continue to breastfeeding him nor has she attempted to express milk.”

“How is she _today_?”

“She’s been quiet...not as heavily medicated, we're trying to wean her off the sedatives but she remains drowsy and still refuses to eat or talk to anyone.”

“I see.” Said Vera slowly, still mentally debating if revealing the truth of the investigation would be in Doreen’s best interests

“Governor?” questioned Rose, sensing something was troubling her superior

Vera licked her dry lips, “I'm afraid that there’s even more bad news for Anderson!” she turned to Rose, “You don’t need to concern yourself with the details...needless to say that Nash Taylor was directly responsible for the incident. I wanted to spare Anderson from learning about this on the news after _they_ sensationalized the tragic story everywhere. I wanted to break the news to her, first.”

Rose contemplated debating with Vera wither or not it was in her patient’s best interests to learn of the tragic details, Doreen was already sedated but this news had the potential to push her over the edge, “Shall I have the doctor on standby with a sedative?”

“Keep her under close observations,” Vera ordered, “I fear she may become a risk to herself however it depends on how she handles this new development.”

 

* * *

 

Doreen lay on the trolley in the infirmary, tightly curled in the fetal position as she gently rocked back and forth. Vera signalled for Rose and the doctor to remain hidden behind the curtain.

“Doreen?” whispered Vera softy as she reached out and brushed the limp hair out from her face

There was no reply as she continued to incoherently murmur to herself as she rocked back and forth in the steady rhythm.

“Doreen,” she started again but her throat tightened, “I have some important news to tell you about Nash.”

At the mention of his name, her eyes widened and she briefly smiled then looked up towards Vera, “My Nash.” She grinned in a delusional state

“Doreen, do you remember that Nash was in a car accident?”

She inhaled deeply and shook her head as if she were in denial, “Nash? Is-is he...okay? Joshua...” she muttered hoarsely, looking around for her baby

Vera steadied Doreen by the shoulders and firmly squeezed in order to gain her attention, “Doreen,” she closed her eyes and regain her composure, “Nash was injured...badly. He was in a car accident...he hurt many other people too.”

Doreen rolled her shoulders in a feeble effort to push off Vera’s hands; her hands scrubbed her face, “No...No...No...You're lying.” She protested

“I'm sorry Doreen....Nash was drunk when he was driving, his car crashed into another...h-he killed a young family.”

“But, he...No!” whaled Doreen crying into her hands, “He...was recovering...Nash would do... _anything_ for...Joshua...No!” she stammered trying to make sense of what was happening

“The police investigation, they've concluded that Nash was responsible...he was intoxicated, alcohol and drugs.” Continued Vera, wincing at how unsympathetic she must have sounded

Doreen’s head snapped up and in a brief moment of clarity, she grabbed one of Vera’s wrists, “Nash...Nash didn't use drugs...he was sober for.... _me_...for _Joshua._ ”

Vera let her free hand rest upon Doreen’s which still gripped firmly on her wrist, “They ran tests...it showed alcohol a _nd_ drugs in his system.”

“Lies, lies...all lies!” shouted Doreen

 

* * *

 

Vera paced anxiously in her office with her arms tightly folded across her chest which caused her shoulders to sag and ache as she held herself tensely, her jaw soon began to ache too as she clenched her teeth together, stopping herself short of grinding her teeth. The additional painkillers that she had taken since arriving back in her office with her usual milky latte had quickly conspired against her as she found herself trembling with anxiety and nervous energy but no means to steady her now shaking hands.

 _'You need to calm down...distract yourself, do something productive.’_ She thought

Vera stalked towards the black leather chair and dialled the number of the doctor’s surgery, remembering the voice-mail that she had received from Doctor Diane Gregory.

“Yes, good morning...I was wondering if I could make an appointment to see Doctor Gregory, please.”

The receptionist requested for Vera to hold for a moment, there was the sound of rustling paper followed by the crackle of bubble gum being chewed noisily on the other end of the telephone, “The latest available appointment is this coming Monday.”

“Yes.” Replied Vera

“Would you prefer the morning or afternoon?”

Vera looked down at her diary, Monday morning were usually reserved for the weekly staff meetings, a debrief as such from the previous week and to enable discussion of various issues, shift changes and set priorities or goal for the rest of the week however, her afternoons were usually allocated to playing catch up with paperwork and reports that has occurred over the weekend.

“Any time in the afternoon, please.” Answered Vera

“Right, I've booked you in with Doctor Gregory for one forty-five.”

Vera reached into her breast pocket for her pen, she frowned only to remember that she had loaded her pen to Rose while down in the infirmary, “Can you hold for two seconds...I need to find a pen.”

The desk was immaculate and in hindsight, she should have a pen to hand, another mental note was to have a steady supply of pens handy should she be in such a situation again. She pulled open the top drawer which only contained the paperwork of the Hepatitis C clinical trials.

_‘God, how hard is it to find a damn pen!’_

She slammed the top drawer and pulled open the next drawer, impatiently she moved various bits and pieces over to one side until she grinned in success at finding a pen. “What time did you say again?”

“One forty-five on Monday with Doctor Gregory.” Repeated the receptionist who continued to crack her bubble gum

“Excellent, thank you, bye.” Said Vera as she wrote the appointment in her diary then relaxed back in the chair

She placed the newly acquired pen into the breast pocket of her black uniform jacket and was about to push the drawer closed when something caught her peripheral vision, ]something familiar which instantly jarred a memory. Vera leaned closer and reached down; removing the various items then gasped loudly then withdrew her hand quickly as if she had been burnt.

 _‘But, how?’_ thought Vera, partially convinced that her eyes where deceiving her

Slowly, she plucked up the courage and retrieved the brand new, cellophane wrapped packet and placed the foreign item in the middle of her desk, directly in front of her. It was clearly the only surviving evidence of the previous Governor, Vera smirked, somewhat impressed that the seemingly harmless item had somehow gone unnoticed for this length of time, until now.

A packet of six, unused and pristine yellow pencils sat on the desk, distinctly the same type of pencils which former Governor Joan Ferguson was partial to and often had displayed on her desk even when Vera had dared to enter her office with her collection of evidence which had been presented to the board that Joan was unfit for duty. She clearly remembered how calm and casual Joan appeared, listening to classical music as she obsessively arrange the pencils into a symmetrical circle.

 

* * *

 

_“Would the defendant please rise.”_

_Joan Ferguson along with her lawyer, Nina both stood to attention and waited patiently._

_“Has the jury reached a final verdict?” asked the judge, as she adjusted her glasses_

_The entire courtroom was silent, the occasional cough from someone in the gallery echoed but did not distract from the proceedings. In the back row of the impressive courtroom sat four people who wanted to personally witness the final verdict. Matthew Fletcher sat in the aisle seat in order to allow his leg to fully extend and avoid cramp, his leg had not been the same since the hit and run which had been order by Joan. Will Jackson and Bridget Westfall glanced nervously at each other but despite their detailed testimony, Nina had meticulously dissected their statements as if she had been a surgeon in a previous life. Vera was barely able to see over the towering heads of the taller people that sat in front of her, the burden of being vertically challenged. She chewed on her bottom lip anxiously and held her breath as she waited for the final verdict to be announced._

_“Yes, your Honour...we have,” replied the appointed juror as he cleared his throat and purposely adjusted his tie. He handed the piece of folded paper to the bailiff who in turn handed the paper to the judge._

_She unfolded the paper and glanced at the scribbled writing, the verdict had been unanimous. Her features remained passive then gestured for the appointed juror to continue._

_“We, the jury find...the defendant, Joan Ferguson,”_

_The four people that had worked with the former Governor and had given testimony during the trial, all subconsciously leaned forward. Fletcher seemed somewhat confident that Joan would not last particularly long in any prison given the fact that she was a former Governor of one. Vera could feel a dull ache in her chest as continued to hold her breath, her eyes wide with anticipation._

_“Not guilty.” Finished the juror_

_Joan closed her eyes and exhaled and her head dropped with relief, these past few months had been extremely stressful, both physically and mentally but with the sudden disappearance of Nils Jasper, his written testimony could no longer be used and with the small fortune invested in getting the best lawyer in the country was the best money she had ever spent._

_Nina leaned close to her client, “It’s all over...you can breathe now.” She whispered and offered a smile which quickly disappeared_

_“Are you fuckin’ kiddin’ me?” demanded an angry voice from the back row_

_Vera, Will and Bridget were practically bewildered by their friend and colleague’s sudden outburst, everyone in the courtroom turned their attention to the disgruntled man from the back of the courtroom_

_“Fletch...get back here!” hissed Will attempting to restrain him_

_Fletcher leaned heavily on his walking stick as he approached. Joan recognised the voice almost immediately as it emanated furiously from somewhere behind her, she_ _turned around while Nina shook her head in disbelief, obviously he was less than pleased with the result and bitter since Nina had berated and completely shredded his statement and testimony against her client and it had not been the first time that a member of the courtroom was less than pleased with the final verdict, in her many years as a lawyer and now he was only embarrassing himself. The judge slammed the hammer to regain control of her courtroom._

_“Order! Order...Sir, I urge you to take your seat or I'll have you forcibly removed.”_

_“S-she’s bat shit crazy, she's a psychopath! She tried to have me killed...TWICE! I saw her talking to nothing...she’s anything but innocent.”_

_“You have five seconds to return to your seat or I’ll have you charged!” threatened the judge_

_“And you bunch of useless idiots!” spat Fletch, pointing to the jury with his walking stick, “You actually think she’s innocent? You've just let a killer walk free...”_

_“Bailiff, get him the hell out of my courtroom, now!” she shouted above Fletch’s continuous loud raving and insults aimed at Joan, her lawyer and the members of the jury which then caused her courtroom to descend into chaos, she used the hammer in order to demonstrate exactly who was in charge and to drown out his protests and regain control._

_But even as Matthew Fletcher was physically escorted out, dragged away by two guards, he refused to leave without protest, “This isn't the end Joan...not by a long shot...you deserve to pay for what you did...to me...to Vera...W-Will...Spiteri...Bea...” he roared and resisted against the guards, adamant that he would be heard, “Where’s the justice? Oh, you’ll get yours Joan...Karma is a bitch!”_

_The heavy oak doors of the courtroom were closed and any further angered protests from Matthew Fletcher were muffled. Vera, Will and Bridget shared a horrifying look with each other then waited patiently for the judge to dismiss everyone, each were too eager to leave as soon as humanly possible._

_Joan glanced once more over the shoulder and raised her eyebrow towards Vera, the corner of her lip curled slightly, holding her in her line of sight. Vera felt her jaw tighten as she refused to allow Joan to intimidate her with one fleeting glance. It was purposely and painfully slow when Joan broke eye contact and turned around, her full attention towards the judge._

_Will leaned towards Bridget and Vera, keeping his voice a whisper as to not further disturb the court, “The audacity...she actually smiled, taunting us.” he hissed through clenched teeth_

_“You can't let her intimidate you....us, Will.” Hushed Bridget_

_“I don’t think we've seen the last of her.” Added Vera, as she visibly swallowed_


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so I must clarify that this fic was uploaded before season four started but also my fic is based in semi-alternative universe.  
> Despite the tone tags (what you see is what you get) Rape will NOT be featured just to clarify a few misunderstandings. Also whatever happens in season four of Wentworth won't effect or have any similar themes, etc...well, unless someone on the show delivers a classic one-liner and the perfect sarcastic comment and I 'borrow' it.  
> This *proud* is an original idea which requires patience before it goes full throttle! Already I've planted or mentioned a few clues which is probably pointless until nearer the ending.  
> Also, time isn't really a luxury for me so the fact I was able to be uploading chapter *looks around, what are we on now?* Chapter Seven...wow! Again, from this point on...there may include swearing....  
> I totally ship Freakytits...and sadly, I think the opportunity has been and gone but alas there's tones of fics and supports of this paring....again patience guys...it's coming, soon.
> 
> Warning, since this is my very first Wentworth/freakytits fanfic, it should be warned that I am trying to make sure I don't trash the character or turn her into something that's a former shadow of herself. I aim to remains true to the character minus too much OOC(ness)
> 
> Read and review. Kudos and feedback is always and greatly appreciated.  
> Please overlook spelling/grammar mistakes, I do try to edit and correct said mistakes.  
> I own nothing, etc  
> Any songs mentioned in this fic are real and helped me to write, I depend heavily on music to help me.  
> Enjoy

 

 

 

It had initially began as gossip but then in a few short hours it was practically common knowledge and not solely confined to those who resided in H-Block as the news continued its report which featured pictures of Nash Taylor. The investigation into the incident which resulted in not only his own death but in the tragic death of a young family, the relatives of the family and the public were in an uproar that a former prisoner, recently released had selfishly caused this senseless tragedy. The revelation shocked the inmate population particularly those who were close or knew Doreen, who had previously spoke of just how proud she was, of Nash. He had turned his life around completely by attending regular alcoholic’s anonymous group meetings and recently agreed to a have a sponsor to ensure he did not relapse. Doreen’s appeal was only a couple of months away and they would soon be reunited, be a complete family and put their prison life behind them.

Liz Birdsworth, former peer worker had been allocated as Joshua’s carer ever since Doreen had learnt of her partner’s death and collapsed into a hysterical heap, her emotional breakdown required her to be  temporarily sedated as she had lashed out at the messenger of the horrific news, Vera Bennett the Governor. Since then Doreen had been sedated and kept in the infirmary for close observation, she was unable to care for her son and Liz picked up the pieces, she was devastated for her friend, who she had secretly considered her as a daughter after all, Liz took Doreen under her wing when she first arrived in Wentworth and it was the beginning of their friendship.

No-one had been allowed to visit Doreen and this fuelled their growing anxiety for their friend, assuming the worst had happened.

 

“’Can’t _you_ do something, Bea?” asked Liz as she cooed an unsettled baby Joshua

“She’s tried already,” interrupted Maxine before adding, “We _all_ have.”

“Its orders, Governor’s orders...whatever that's supposed to mean?” shrugged Bea, not even sure what that even meant and sank down onto the couch beside Boomer, as 'Top Dog' she was privy to information but in this instance, Vera refused to share

“Bicky?” offered Boomer with an open packet of chocolate biscuits

“Well,  _I'm_  going to the Governor, tomorrow.” Added Liz

“Think Governor Vinegar-tits will change her mind?” asked Boomer suddenly although her gaze remained transfixed on the television screen

“It can’t hurt to ask...shows that we’re concerned about Doreen _and_ Joshua really needs to be with his mum.”

 

* * *

 

For Vera, the weekend had been uneventful, she immersed herself completely into re-reading the paperwork that the doctor had gave her earlier on in the week regarding the details of the Hepatitis C clinical trial and found a staggering amount of academic articles, previous clinical trials and various research into medications and treatments however as well as answering some of her questions, her reading also unearthed even more questions which did not seem to alleviate the mounting pressure that she felt.

The thought of the unknown terrified her, being unprepared was a daunting task and coping with a disease, alone had worn her down, not just physically but also emotionally.

She sat, rested against the black leather couch, in her pyjamas which was typically her Sunday guilty pleasure. The laptop perched on the arm of the couch with a glass of red wine within arms stretch combined with the soothing tunes of classical music playing in the background, not only aided in her concentration but helped to break the monotonous sound of the constant clicking of the keyboard.

She sighed contently; currently playing was Tchaikovsky – Valse Sentimentale. Her mother did not approve of any genre of music to be played in the house which made Vera wonder if her father was a musician or if her mother simply despised any and everything, the small woman who ruled the house with an iron fist had lead an extraordinary plain and boring life and Vera was determined _not_ to become her mother.

Her classical music playlist had been put on random, never particularly interested or followed the latest trend in music but she did have a great passion and admiration for classical music, the composers and their works were timeless classics and the genre itself was somewhat relaxing and peaceful, Vera found she was more productive with something playing in the background.

The current piece of music slowed and finished, there was a lengthy pause between songs and the sound of the keyboard was the only sound, Vera typed effortlessly without needing to look down at the keys as her fingers stroked the keys.

Vera felt herself shudder involuntarily which considering she was wrapped in her thick, cotton dressing gown and woolly socks caused her to shake her head and continue typing, abruptly stopping at various intervals to scribble a question or phrase into the note-pad. The opening piece of music was familiar, a sense of déjà vu struck her and yet she could _not_ remember downloading the song, again Vera pushed the niggling feeling deep, somewhere in the back of her mind.

The first few words sang by the powerful woman caused Vera to instantly freeze and look up from the bright screen of laptop. Maria Callas – Barcarola appeared on the small glowing screen and suddenly Vera recalled the last time she had heard this beautiful piece of music but it was not associated with any happy memories. It had been playing in the background of the office when she entered, after returning from an emergency meeting with the board to address her report. Joan Ferguson sat behind her desk and attempted to perfectly arrange the faithful yellow pencils without as much as a glance towards her. The air in the office felt heavy, the tension between them was palpable, once a dynamic power team but that was no longer the case.

Joan simply dismissed her claims before delivering a crushing insult, _“Your mother was right about you, you are such a disappointment.”_

 

* * *

 

The staff waited patiently in the staff-room, the inmates were still locked in their blocks, breakfast detail and showers had yet to begin which was the ideal time for all staff to be present for the weekly meetings and receive a handover from the night-shift staff. Vera was running slightly late, her mind preoccupied with the impending appointment with her doctor to discuss the possibility of participating in the upcoming clinical trial. Vera was nervous, not knowing what to expect from the appointment or the trial itself, she wondered if the trial medication would have better or worse side effects than what she was currently experiencing from her antiviral medication. She had accumulated her annual leave and unless there was a dire situation then the regular running of the prison could be handled by her faithful and competent Deputy in her absence.

“Morning everyone, apologies for running late,” began Vera as she marched purposely into the staff-room with her folder and minutes from last week’s meeting, “Let’s get down to business.”

In her peripheral vision, she noticed Linda and Fletch sitting beside each other. Vera looked towards them, their eyes and attention was drawn elsewhere. Vera felt her knuckles clench painfully until her skin appeared white, “Something amusing there, Ms Miles...Mr Fletcher?” she snipped at her subordinates

“Um nothing.” Answered Linda quickly which raised Vera's suspicion and curiosity but could not allow herself to be distracted and proceeded with the meeting

Fletch grunted under his breath and switched his mobile phone off then threw it onto the table which clattered loudly causing everyone to awkwardly glance between a temperamental Fletch and their superior, before he attempted to feign the slightest bit of interest in the staff meeting, Will’s voice droned on as he recapped the events of last week’s meeting. Fletch glared at Will, the new Deputy Governor, once again, he had been overlooked for a promotion by someone younger and less experienced than himself which infuriated him.

* * *

 

“Our last point...Doreen Anderson, she’ll be discharged from medical and returning back to H-Block. I don’t suppose I need to explain her situation to you all as it was so graciously covered by our delightful, resident bottom feeder reporter, Ms Jovanka.” Announced Vera, her facial features contorted as if by saying the name it had left a bad taste in her mouth

“Liz Birdsworth will remain carer of Joshua until Anderson is fit enough...she’ll be understandably fragile so remain vigilant.” Warned Vera as her eyes scanned the faces of all her officers

“If that’s everything?” asked Will, concluding their meeting, he nodded towards the night shift staff, happy for them to leave early

Fletch cleared his throat, he loitered, hoping to be able to speak to Vera, “Governor...I need that word with you.” He demanded rather than requested

“Have you made an appointment, Mr Fletcher?” she asked politely, collecting the sheet of paper which contained the minutes of the recent meeting

“You’re purposely avoiding me.” he complained and obstructed the doorway preventing Vera and a few lingering colleagues from leaving 

“Fletch!” warned Will, “You’re on a warning, now get to work.” he intervened, flexing his authority as Deputy Governor which further fuelled Fletch' frustration

Vera smiled victoriously as she left the staff-room, leaving her capable deputy to handle Fletch and his notorious, childlike temper tantrum

 

* * *

 

Her Monday morning was equally uneventful like her weekend, no phone-calls to distract her from the usual monotonous and endless stream of paperwork that went hand-in-hand with the job as Governor. The thought of lunch caused her stomach to somersault with nausea despite hearing her stomach growling loudly with hunger, very often she neglected to eat when she was overly stressed or too nervous. Vera convinced herself that she would eat but only _after_ her appointment with the doctor.

Vera glanced at the time and shut down her computer then carefully adjusted her desk, she placed her black leather folder under her arm which contained the information regarding the clinical trial and her own note-pad with scribbled questions that urgently needed answering before fully committing whether or not to participate. Her doctor, Diane Gregory, appeared overall positive although she was equally perplexed as to how Vera had been selected and submitted for the upcoming trial however after checking, it appeared that all of Vera’s paperwork was in order so the logistical nightmare had been taken care of and essentially Vera had the ball in her court although time was a factor before the deadline. She had to make her mind up sooner rather than later.

She sat in the car, in the car park of the doctor’s surgery, the black folder sat heavily on her lap. Vera had been about to get out of the car when she suddenly froze, the reality had began to crush her, paralysed as her mind began to conjure scenarios and dwell on the negative aspects of the clinical trial, that was  _if_ she even successful in meeting the strict guidelines and criteria. As, her mind swirled chaotically, Vera felt her knees tremble and leaned back against the seat, her anxiety levels were barely manageable as the adrenaline coursed throughout her veins and caused her hands to perspire badly, neglecting to eat anything of substantial nutritional value conspired against her.

 _‘I can do this! You can do this!’_ thought Vera mentally preparing herself, willing herself to find the momentum to get out of the car

Knuckles chapped the glass which startled Vera; her eyes wide with fright, “Vera?” asked the voice, “Oh! I thought that was you...” she paused sensing the palpable anxiety emanating from the small framed woman, “Hey, you weren't thinking about cancelling our appointment, were you?”

Vera reluctantly shook her head and swallowed the solid lump that threatened to obstruct her breathing, a panic attack was imminent. Diane pulled open the door of the passenger side and sat down, “Hey, hey!” the doctor’s hand reached and covered Vera’s cool, clammy hand, “Let’s get out of here and into my office...a sweet cup of tea and,” she gestured to her handbag, “Half a sandwich with your name on it.”

“Oh! Y-you don’t h-have to do that...I'm...it’s...” stuttered Vera

“Overwhelming?” suggested Diane, “Vera, it may not make you feel any better but you aren't the first nor will be the last patient to feel like this...I guess it’s just human nature.”

“I've read so much information...and Googled...”

“Google? Please say you didn't use those self diagnosis websites...”

Vera felt the all too familiar prickle of heat that rushed to the surface of her face, embarrassed and turned a pale pink colour.

“If you want my advice....don’t use those websites...when in doubt about anything health wise, make an appointment or pick up the telephone...now, come one...we can continue this chat over...” she paused and craned her neck to look inside her handbag, “Does half a BLT sandwich sound remotely appealing to you?”

Vera was about to refuse the kind and touching offer until her stomach chose that particular time to grumble loudly at the mere mention of food.

“I’ll take that as a yes.” Smiled Diane

 

* * *

 

“Wow!” stated Diane as she felt the weight of the black leather folder, “You certainly _have_ done your homework.”

“I-I have a few questions...”

Diane nodded then placed a cup of hot, milky tea in front of her patient, “I took the liberty of adding sugar, no offence but you look like you need a quick pick me up.”

“Thank you.” Whispered Vera

“I can maybe help reassure you....at this moment in time, _if_ you agree to participate in the clinical trial then I require blood tests firstly, one of the tests will be able to indicate your current viral count on your current medication _however_ the additional blood samples are needed to best measure your viral count....without taking _any_ antiviral medications.”

“What?” clearly taken aback, “No medication, whatsoever? But I _need_ them...I-I...I can’t!”

“Alright, I may have worded that badly,” explained Diane, “If this wasn't safe then we wouldn't recommend that our patients do this...however we need the most accurate measurement of your viral count then after that you’ll be started on an immediate dose of the medication that is currently being trialled. Already, there’s been a massive success rate where eighty-eight to ninety-five percent of patients no longer require their antiviral medications.”

“So, they've been cured?” gasped Vera

Diane hesitated, “We still require routine blood tests....just to air on the side of caution after all this is still a relatively new and experimentally drug _but_ the pros greatly outweigh the cons and I wouldn't be doing my job if I were putting patients directly at risk...Vera, the decision is ultimately yours.”

Vera’s shoulders sagged and a headache forming fast caused her to wince, the pain throbbed from behind her right eye, hopefully it would not manifest itself into a migraine, “Alright, where do I sign?”

 

* * *

 

Vera used her free hand to massage the side of her aching head as she walked towards her car. She turned the key in the ignition and immediately reached to turn the air conditioner onto the coldest setting then removed her tie then unbuttoned the top two buttons of her white shirt which clung to her warm body.

As Vera indicated to turn right, out of the car park, someone watched from across the street then followed her, maintaining a healthy distance as to not be recognised. The roads were relatively empty, it would be another couple of hours before the roads would be congested with the heavy peak-time traffic as everyone wanted to escape work and return home as quickly as possible and Vera was thankful to avoid any unnecessary and lengthy delays in returning home to her apartment.

She manoeuvred her car into the small driveway and collected her clear handbag, she cursed at the weight of the leather bound folder, not noticing how heavy it actually was. She awkwardly got out of the car juggling her belongings; the uncomfortable humidity was the first thing Vera noticed and wished she had opted to wear her skirt instead of the trousers which seemed to retain more heat and with the sleeve of her white shirt wiped the perspiration away from her eyebrows.

Her clear handbag strap twisted uncomfortably and pressed hard against her shoulder, her black uniform jacket draped over her bag and the leather folder angled awkwardly pinched between her elbow and hip as she clumsily fumbled for her apartment keys that had mysteriously vanished from sight.

“Vera!” shouted a voice

In that precise moment, the folder slipped out from under her arm and landed hard on the concrete, scraping the pristine leather protective cover and caused the zip to burst open. She yelped out in pain as something sharp stabbed her hand, the object had punctured the skin had caused droplets of blood to contaminate the contents of her handbag. Just as she wrenched her hand out from the handbag, the shoulder strap connecting to the see-through plastic snapped and landed on top of her battered folder, the handbag then fell onto its side which caused the contents to spill over the driveway.

“Vera!” repeated the voice with a hint of frustration

She ignored whoever was calling on her, the main priority was to attend to her injured hand, to prevent further and potential contamination of her disease, the blood-borne virus. She grabbed a packet of tissues from the ground and wrapped it tightly over her injured hand then tiredly picked up the ruined remains of her handbag and folder.

“Are you purposely going out of your way to ignore me?”

Vera glanced up to see the towering figure of her colleague, Matthew Fletcher and subtly glanced at her watch while retrieving her diary that had fallen out of her bag, “Shouldn't you still be on-duty?” she replied, ignoring his sarcastic question

“ _Linda_ is covering for me.”

Vera rolled her eyes and stood up fully, “Did you follow me home?” she realised that yet again she had forgotten to update her address at work so therefore no-one knew where she had moved to.

“I _had_ to since you've purposely bent over backwards to avoid me.”

Vera tutted, “You’re being paranoid.” She replied and headed towards her apartment

Fletch cracked his neck from side to side, answering to a female colleague, superior to him had never sat well considering he claimed to have missed out on the promotion straight to Governor after the departure of Erica Davidson then he was overlooked for the position of Deputy Governor to his former friend, Will Jackson. Fletch was stuck in a job with no future although his general, old fashioned attitude, obvious sexist opinions and questionable professionalism had stalled his career in corrections. Vera did not think he had the intelligence for management as you definitely needed adequate interpersonal skills and a clear passion for the job, something that perhaps Matthew Fletcher may have once possessed.

“Hey, I'm talking to you!” He snarled and lunged forward grabbed her forearm, he would make her listen now

Vera attempted to pull back to free her arm but to no avail, “No, you’re talking _at_ me, there’s a difference...now if you don’t mind...”

“Actually, _I_ do mind.” He interrupted

“Let me go!” she demanded and struggled against his grip

“Not until we've had a proper little chat...you can’t ignore me anymore.”

“Y-you’re hurting me.” Gasped Vera as his grip intensified

“A fraction of the pain that you caused me....remember? Sneaking through my stuff, reading my personal journal...”

“Fletch...I-I...Matt, please....”

He practically dislocated her arm when he forcefully wrenched her towards the front door of her apartment, “You’ve blatantly ignored _me_ for days...you made me make a fucking _appointment_ just so I could have the privilege of speaking to you!” he towered over her and pulled her closer towards him, “All that power has gone to your head...trying to imitate _her,_ be just like her, mini freak.” spat Fletch as he maintained a secure hold of her arm which prevented Vera from escaping

“My arm!” she protested again, attempting to preserve the confidence in her voice when actually a part of her was afraid, she had only ever witnessed his uncontrollable temper when the final verdict was revealed, she had never seen him so anger, the rage that boiled underneath was threatening to take over 

“Fuck your arm! You’re gonna listen and listen good...” he spat with venom as he finally released the painful vice like grip on her arm but instead grabbed her chin and forced her to look into his twisted and contorted features, a pulsating vein threatened to burst at the side of his temple, saliva foamed at the corner of his lips, “Keep your goddamn interfering nose out of our business! You think that just because you’re the _almighty_ Governor that you can threaten me _or_ Linda...jealous? Jealous that I've moved on with my life while you remain married to your precious job title.”

Vera looked at him with bewilderment, it was clear that his post traumatic stress from the army combined with his testimony that had been dissected during Joan’s trial had left him feeling humiliated but also his credibility as a witness disintegrated when it was revealed he had _technically_ raped a prisoner although he clung to the fact that it had been consensual between himself and the deceased Jess Warner but he could not grasp the concept that inmates cannot give consent to such an act or relationship to those who wield the power. It had been Derek Channing pulling strings and calling in favours that Fletch only received a suspension without pay although it would reflect in his personal records so further promotions or a transfer to another facility would be near impossible with such a serious reprimanding, granted he _still_ had a job at Wentworth.

“You are a failure at everything else... _that’s_ why your life revolves around work, how pathetic _and_ tragic...”

Her glassy blue eyes widened at his continual verbal tirade, character assassination and the prolonged, agonizing grip that caused her pale skin to discolour.

“Release her, Mr Fletcher.” Ordered a voice from behind, Vera was unable to see the identity of her savour and hero from Fletch.

 

* * *

 

Vera gasped in horror and stared at Fletch, “W-what have you done?”

There was a brief moment before the red mist dissolved completely and clarity returned, Fletch was able to see and think normally again however the carnage that he witnessed before his own eyes and the familiar pain, the throbbing of his knuckles, had he struck Vera?

In a panic, Fletch inspected his knuckles of his right hand and then observed Vera, how could he have possibly have struck a woman? The same woman that he was once completely smitten with and found her incredibly cute especially when she chewed her bottom lip while trying to decide which film they should watch or how she flamboyantly used her hands when talking, she had been a marvel to watch. 

“Mr Fletcher, y-you...you need to leave.... _immediately_...before I file a report with the police. Go, _now!"_

Fletch slowly backed away tentatively while trying to piece together fragments of broken and chaotic memory of what he had said and done. A car engine roared into life and sped away, she could only presumed that Fletch has taken her advice.

Vera dropped down to her knees, “You’re going to have one hell of a headache...maybe even a broken nose for your trouble...oh god! You’re bleeding, here...tip your head back slightly and pinched the bridge of your nose...follow me and I’ll get you an ice pack.”

“Thank you, Vera.” Replied the winded voice of Joan

 

* * *

 

Joan sat on one of the stool at the breakfast island with a makeshift ice-pack placed firmly over her nose, her head tipped back slightly while Vera attended to her own small injury, her cut hand, the cause of her injury was still unknown but in all likelihood the culprit remained in her handbag.

She rolled up her sleeves and practically carried out a surgical scrub of her hands, wrists and forearms prior to drying and safely dressing the small wound with a waterproof plaster. In the cupboard under the kitchen sink, she retrieved a box of disposable latex gloves and put on a pair then turned her attention to her wounded hero who sat with impeccable posture, as always.

“Let see if the bleeding has stopped, shall we.” Announced Vera, clearing her throat and carefully adverted her doe-like eyes from Joan's dark chocolate eyes, focusing on the task at hand

She took the makeshift ice-pack from Joan and placed it on top of the granite worktop, her nose did not appear to be broken but it was evident that she had suffered an injury, as the bridge of her nose had already began to discolour, “I don’t think you’ve broken anything...the impact might have just ruptured a fragile vessel.” Reported Vera, rewrapping the icepack in fresh kitchen paper then binned the blooded kitchen paper and gloves

“Mr Fletch...overgrown Neanderthal doesn’t know his own strength.” Grumbled Joan repositioning the ice pack to the side of her aching nose

“Could be payback from attempting to assassinate him?” suggested Vera casually, carefully to avoid eye contact and discard her uniform jacket into the washing machine

“I’ll treat that retort with the contempt it deserves.”

Vera stood at the opposite side of the breakfast island, creating as much space and a barrier between them, “Now, here’s a question...why _did_ you save me from _him_ and why are you here?”

“It is merely coincidental that I should pick the same day to visit you that Mr Fletcher is harassing you on your own doorstep.”

Vera impatiently tapped her recently manicured nails against the cool surface, Joan had been careful to avoid directly answering her simple question and after the day ending how it did, overwhelmed with an abundance of information then finally conceding and signed the consent form to participate in a clinical trial to then be harassed, manhandled and verbal assaulted by a colleague and then the sudden arrival of _her._ Vera was in no state of mind to be playing stupid, immature head games, “Some things never change, do they?” She sighed dramatically, “I’ll leave you to see yourself out.” she called over her shoulder

* * *

 

Vera collected her belongings that she had unceremoniously dumped by the front door; the see-through plastic handbag was definitely for the bin, _‘Cheap plastic crap.’_ Thought Vera

In her bedroom, she striped down to her underwear, the house was relatively cooler compared to the uncomfortable humidity of outside, her skin welcomed the chilly air and a wave of goose-bumps appeared over her skin. Vera changed into her pyjamas that consisted of a t-shirt which was at least three times bigger than her own slender frame and baggy polka-dot bottoms. Her uniform was unceremoniously dumped into the half full clothes hamper. The best part of the day besides removing her bra was to unwind and free her hair from the tight bun that sat rigidly at the base of her skull, her hair rippled in the freedom and finally her scalp was allowed to breathe.

Vera skipped down the stairs and continued to tidy up her belongings; she placed the burst black, leather folder on the glass coffee table then reached for the remote control for the docking station, to continue the playlist from Sunday evening that she had spent a majority of her time researching relevant information on Hepatitis C clinical trials and medications. The surround sound system began to play Beethoven’s Moonlight Sonata.

“That’s a rather sombre choice of music even for you Vera.”

Vera flinched at the sound of her voice, “I thought you were leaving?” she hinted

Joan did not reply instead she removed the makeshift ice-pack from her sensitive nose; Vera’s internal monologue tripped and went into free fall. Joan’s normally powerful and confident aura, even posture seemed different but it was rather difficult to pinpoint the cause, if any.

Something was indeed off.

“I’ll ask you....one,” Vera took a step closer, “more,” then another, closer towards the opened planned kitchen, “time,” paused Vera beside Joan, who remained sat on the kitchen stood at the breakfast island, “Why _are_ you here?”

Joan looked up from the ice-pack in her hands which was melting, a small smile jerked at the corner of her lips, sickening irony that in her very hands the ice melted and yet she, herself had been described as many things, one of them being ‘The Ice Maiden’. She had been previously impervious and cold, nothing could weaken or thaw her....except for one.

“Vera,” began Joan, painfully slow as if prolonging her time here, “I was telling you the truth when I said that I cared for you.”

It took Vera a few moments before she released that Joan was implying about their disastrous dinner which Vera had replayed and cringed at the way Joan spoke, vague and reciting descriptive words, normally found in the thesaurus and used to illustrate and compare the both of them, it had been confusing until Vera could not stand the awkwardness anymore and revealed that she had contracted Hepatitis C from a needle-stick injury during the riot. When Joan pulled away from Vera’s hand, it was the final nail in the coffin.

“And yet, you acted as though it was actually possible to become infected by a simple and comforting touch...Joan, I-I saw how you looked at me...the same look of disgust when someone either shook your hand or touch your desk, to you I'm contaminated and dirty.”

“Prior to that...I-I was trying...wanting to...” Joan appeared to be in pain, inarticulate with her thoughts and failed to form coherent words; Vera was taken back slightly by the distinct change in her former mentor and superior officer.

“Stop....just stop!” exasperated Vera, running her fingers through her hair, “Do you realise that I've often wondered what would I say to you if I were to ever see you again, there were so many scenarios...some I would shout and scream obscenities, others I would slap you just to repay you for when you slapped me....so many things to say....”

“Vera, I...” began Joan

“No, _NO!_ ” screamed Vera, her finger trembled as she pointed at Joan, “No, you _will_ say nothing and you _will_ listen....”

Vera hammered her fist against the granite worktop, nearly a year worth of pent up and unresolved feelings and emotions, “You referred to me as a pathetic mouse of an officer...” her voice cracked and slowly she was unravelling from the seams. She cleared her throat and turned back to face Joan, “You _need_ to leave, right now...I appreciate you coming to my aid...when Fletch...well, it’s done and dusted....leave _now!_ ”

Silently, Joan slid elegantly from the stood and handed the ice-pack back to Vera. As she went to take the melting ice-pack, Joan caught her wrist and inspected Vera, “He should pay for what he’s done to you.”


	8. Chapter 8

 

 

It had been just over twenty-four hours since Vera had taken the last of her antiviral medication, since her initial diagnosis nearly a year ago, Vera was meticulous, if not obsessed to quickly integrate the permanent medication into her morning routine. A fear had morphed into a phobia that if she were to delay or forget her medication then the virus would multiple out of control and the regular blood tests would reveal an elevated viral load then soon she would become unfit for duty, the job that was practically her sole purpose for her existence, the job that gave her minuscule life meaning and without her job, she would be...nothing.

Doctor Diane Gregory had forewarned Vera of the potential withdrawal symptoms from her antiviral medication. Her body was accustomed to the drug that she had been prescribed and taken for over a year and to go ‘cold turkey’ all of a sudden then the likelihood that she would suffer the similar symptoms was high. The same withdrawal that Vera had witnessed countless inmates experience when their drug supply had been intervened or placed into isolation and were unable to receive the much needed and craved after drugs.

She clutched her abdomen with one hand and supported herself against the cool porcelain sink with her forearm, doubled over as painful muscle spasmed violently, combined with the uncontrollable nausea that threatened to expel the plain toast she had forced herself to eat for breakfast.

Finally, she was able to stand up fully without aggravating the return of the abdominal spasms or nausea, her reflection in the bathroom mirror reflected exactly how she felt, death warmed up. She pulled open the mirrored cabinet door, automatically reaching for her antiviral medication and examined the half empty box that contained several strips of sealed blister packets, her previous pills. Vera groaned loudly as her hand retreated back towards her stomach, Diane had been a great source of strength and helpful advice which seemed to make it easy to forgo the antiviral medication in order to acquire an accurate enough blood test then Vera would either be commenced on the experimental new drug as part of the clinical trial or forced to resume her regular medication.

 _‘I can do this, I need to do this, I will do this!’_ thought Vera as she placed the box of remaining antiviral medication back on the glass shelve of the cabinet and instead took her multivitamin pill

She hummed along to a classical song that played in the background. Since moving into her own apartment, Vera had purchased an alarm clock radio which had been a practical gift and part of a house-warming present, a treat for herself although the soothing classical music was a much more relaxing way to wake up in the mornings and began her morning routine with a happy distraction, very often staring at the massive queen sized, four poster bed that had been yet another extravagant purchase, as she towel dried her hair, she noticed that an enormous area of the bed remained untouched and perfectly made. Vera always slept tightly contained to one side of the bed, near the edge.

She shook her head, dislodging the lonely thought of living alone since her mother’s death nearly two years ago, _‘You’re supposed to enjoy your freedom, aren’t you happy?’_ she asked herself as she brushed her teeth

Vera leaned closer towards the mirror and observed her reflection as her eyes appeared swollen and blood-shocked. After Joan had departed from her apartment, Vera slid down the surface of the door until she collided with the cool, wooden floor. Barely able to contain her frayed emotions that had threatened to drown her submerged under the crippling weight until she could not breathe. Fletch had acted like a man possessed, his physical and verbal assault had been excruciating and she had been unable to neither escape nor protect herself then Joan seemingly rescued her from the his clutches however the damaged had been done.

Joan had suddenly reappeared back into her life which caused Vera to assume there was an ulterior motive.

She spat the thick minty paste into the sink and noticed before rinsing that there was the faintest trace of blood. Immediately, Vera inspected her gums and mouth in the mirror, had she brushed unwittingly with too much pressure, had a rough piece of toast that she forced herself to eat for breakfast injury her gum or was this potentially another side effect of the withdrawal from the antiviral medication?

Vera desperately wanted to retreat back to bed, bury herself under the duvet and completely ignore the world however her ‘to do’ list was astronomical and she was loathed to blatantly overlook the list. Her obsessive compulsive tick which demanded Vera completed the medial tasks from said list; the reward itself would be to individually cross of the task from the list as it was achieved. How she loved to stay organised with her endless list making.

Also, if she failed to show up for her shift, there was potential that Fletch may pay an unexpected and unwelcome visit to her apartment after the events of yesterday. He would likely offer an empty apology as he often did when he had allowed his temper to get the better of him.

 _‘No!’_ Vera decided that she _would_ go into work regardless of how she felt and she would corner Fletch exactly how he had cornered and bullied her however this time it was to be on _her_ terms and in her office where she planned to remind him of where he stood in the pecking order. She had the power to wield despite her tiny stature and could very easily end his career if she chose to do so.

 _“He should pay for what he’s done to you_ ” echoed Joan’s voice in her mind as she witnessed the altercation between Vera and Fletch

Joan had intervened but her unexpected appearance had startled both of them, Fletch whirled around, his right arm flailing as his fist connected hard against the side of her nose. The force of the strategic hit had thrown Joan off balance and she fell awkwardly onto the ground with blood that trickled down both nostrils.

Vera pushed Fletch then ordered him to leave and like an obedient dog, he swiftly scarpered never daring to glance back over his shoulder. Vera then turned her attention towards Joan whose brazen arrival back into her life had caught her entirely by surprise. Vera thought she had successfully erased all traces of her former mentor and superior officer from her life, everything had been well for the last year but recently sporadic tokens of mementos served as a reminder for Vera of the former Governor who now persistently invaded her thoughts and forced her into confronting those unwanted bitter memories.

She glanced down as her slender wrist where Joan’s hand momentarily grazed her skin. The minuscule contact had been soft and Vera felt a powerful jolt, it travelled up her arm and caused her heart to flutter. The powerful spark had reignited the previously suppressed memories and emotions that she had buried after Joan had unleashed a verbal and scathing attack on her but that was not enough, the ultimate betrayal was when Joan slapped her.

Suddenly, Vera shook her head as if to dislodge the thought, she could not allow the memories of the powerful woman to invade her conscious mind.

Vera tipped her head back, concentrating on getting ready for work instead of dwelling on the past. Her skin around her chin was discoloured and a pattern of light bruising from where Fletch had grabbed her was more noticeable. Normally, Vera did not wear any make-up, she could thank her overbearing and judgemental mother who often laughed and taunted her daughter whenever she attempted to experiment with the make-up that she had painstaking saved her money up to purchase then hid it all from her mother. As a novice, it took several botched attempts to lightly conceal the bruising with a subtle application of foundation and appearing natural, not wanting to draw the unwanted attention from the colleagues.

 

* * *

 

“Mr Fletcher,” announced Vera loudly in the crowed staff-room, the general conversations and cheerful banter immediately hushed upon sensing the tension and the witnessing the rarely displayed anger on their superior’s features, normally she was relatively easy going however today, something was different and the staff noticed instantly, "My office...now!” she barked at him then left

Everyone turned towards Fletch and stared at him. He and Linda had been sitting at the table, sharing pasta Bolognese bake for lunch prior to Vera demanding his presence in her office. Linda leaned closer and attempted to say something but impatiently Fletch brushed her off.

 

He knocked gently against the door, respectfully waited an adequate length of time before tentatively entering the Governor’s office. Vera stood over by the window with her back towards the door, her hands supported her weight against the window still, fingers spread wide and her head hung low as if appearing defeated

The door clicked shut and Fletch shuffled towards a chair, in front of the immaculate desk. He no longer required a walking stick for support or aid in walking, his recovery had been challenging but his limp had improved.

“Don’t get too comfortable, you won’t be here that long.” Her voice punctured the silence

“Oh!” was all he could say

Vera squeezed her eyes tightly shut and focused on her steady breathing as she fought another bout of nausea. The waves caught her off guard just moments prior to Fletch' arrived at her office. She mentally cursed herself for eating lunch only managing a half bowl of tomato and basil soup an hour earlier.

“I find myself placed in a precarious situation, your actions yesterday...” she began

“Vera, about yesterday...I-I I wasn't thinking clearly...”

“That’s always been your problem, hasn't it? You _never_ think...you've been a thorn in the side of e _very_ person that has been Governor including me. On my desk, you’ll find an impressive list of complaints from inmates _and_ colleagues regarding your conduct which I've had to read and listen to at great length and detail....I can honestly say that I’m bitterly disappointed but I'm hardly surprised.”

The nausea subsided and became manageable; slowly she regained her composure and clasped her hands behind her back as her body language projected confidence, the polar opposite of her cowering self yesterday.

“Your career has more lives than a cat does, former colleagues have been investigated and fired for less although they didn't have such an influential and well connected friend, did they?” she paused and raised an eyebrow, “Mr Channing has been _very_ good to you perhaps a little _too_ good as it seems like he is your guardian angel but since he’s otherwise unavailable at the present moment then I have no other choice but to suspend you from active duty until further notice.”

“Vera,” he protested, “Be reasonable...you can’t do this!”

“Then you should have thought about the repercussions of your actions beforehand. As Governor, I need to set examples for my staff and your impressive catalogue of behaviour, conduct and general disregard for the rules...which you seem to presume isn't applicable to you...its reason enough to order your immediate suspension.” She took a step closer towards him, flexing her authority and lowered her voice dangerously, “As for yesterday...you took it upon yourself to abandon your post, stalk _and_ harass a senior member of staff then let’s not forget about your regrettable verbal and physical attack _but_ more seriously you assaulted a member of the public, do I really need to continue?”

Fletch shook his head in disbelief, “A member of the public! It was Joan _fucking_ Ferguson, she...” he growled through clenched teeth, controlling his temper, “Ruined my life!”

“She may have allegedly aided in a devious plot to have you assassinated, twice...unfortunately due to lack of concrete evidence, a jury found her not guilty.”

“Vera, you know what she was and still is capable of...she must've bribed the jury, is friends with the judge or...or...something,” he was desperate and grasped at conspiracy theories, “Look, I don’t know how she did it but s-she’s a monster...a conniving psychopath who should be locked away and never see the light of day ever again.”

“Mr Fletcher...” snapped Vera

“Vera, I really think you should listen to...”

“ _No!_ Mr Fletcher, you listen to _me_...and it’s _fucking_ Governor!”

 

* * *

 

Doreen Anderson had been released from the infirmary yesterday morning and was escorted back to H-Block while the rest of the women were in the laundry on work detail and would be there for the next few hours with the exception of her closest friend Liz who had been allocated as Joshua’s carer.

She had confined herself to her cell still drowsy from the sedative that remained throughout her system. Doreen curled up on the uncomfortable bed and closed her eyes.

“Hey Dor, feeling any better today?” greeted Liz with a welcoming and relieved smile, seeing her friend awake since they had heard nothing about her well-being and had been cause for concern

Joshua perched against Liz’ hip, her arms supporting him as he bounced excitedly, recognising the arrival of his mother, Liz waved his chubby little hand at Doreen, “Hello mummy.” Said Liz doing her best impression of a baby’s voice

Doreen smiled faintly but as quick as her smile appeared, it disappeared, feeling guilty for briefly forgetting Nash. She was reminded of his passing by the sight of her beautiful son and now her only precious link to Nash. It was painfully raw to be in the presence of her son, who was blissfully unaware of his mother’s emotional turmoil.

“Little Joshua had missed his mum...why don’t you give him a cuddle?” suggested Liz

Doreen jerked and shook her head, her hand outstretched to prevent Liz from getting closer and instead she scurried back into her cell and closing the door again. The hot tears streamed down her face as she cried into the prison issue pillow that muffled the sounds of her anguish. Nash would never get the opportunity to see his son take his first steps, hear his first words or wave at him from the gates as Joshua started his first day of school.

Suddenly, she bolted from the single bed and landed hard on her knees, she crawled towards the steel toilet and bent over. Her stomach contracted and heaved but nothing was brought up, she had refused to eat anything the entire time she had spend in the infirmary, heavily sedated that fuelled her delirium, she spent her time dreaming of Nash, refusing to believe that he was no longer a part of her and Joshua’s life anymore.

Doreen returned to her bed and clutched onto the pillow, hugging it tightly into her abdomen as she resumed rocking back and forth in the foetal position with tears streamed down her cheeks. Her eyes were blood-shocked from the constant crying and the lingering remains of the sedative caused her vision to blur. Joshua seemed to be able to sense his mother’s emotional discomfort and wailed for her affection despite Liz’ attempts to settle him, not since the incident when a deranged Jess had temporarily cared for Joshua as a newborn while secretly drugging Doreen had mother and child been separated for such a prolonged length of time.

 

* * *

 

“Governor?” announced Will, peering through the opened door, “I have Birdsworth here...she says that it’s urgent.”

“Show her in and thanks.” Replied Vera and smiled when Liz entered her office, “Please, take a seat.”

“Governor.” Acknowledged Liz

“How’s Anderson?” asked Vera, genuinely concerned

“Grieving...and the reason why I'm here,” reported Liz, “Doreen needs closure, would it be possible for you or someone to find out about Nash’ funeral?”

“You mean let Anderson go to the funeral?”

Liz nodded, “Not an unusual request, it’s been done before...”

Vera held up her hand, “I'm _not_ dismissing the notion but I’d need to go through the proper procedures and even then it’s not up to me to decide whether or not Anderson may be able to attend...in the meantime, probably best _not_ to tell her. I’d hate to get her hopes up only to be disappointed....you’ll recall the same happened to Smith when her daughter died.”

“Ah! Righto, of course, Governor...thanks....you’ll let me know what the decision is so I can tell Doreen. God knows she needs this.”

“I promise.”

The Deputy Governor, Will Jackson opened escorted Liz back down to H-Block. Vera scrolled through her mobile phone contacts and selected Derek Channing’s name and waited, disappointingly it went straight to voice-mail, again.

“Mr Channing, its Governor Bennett _again_...Call me back.”

Will tapped the door and entered, “Everything alright, Vera?”

Vera forced herself to smile but then shook her head in surrender, “I-I...I'm not feeling particularly well today.”

“Was it Birdsworth, did she say something?” he asked, having not heard what their conversation was regarding only that Liz was adamant that she speak to the Governor about an urgent and private matter

“No...I think it’s one of those bugs, you know a twenty-four hour thing...” she stopped and relaxed against her chair, “I feel dreadful.” She complained

“Why don’t I hold down the fort? You head home, take something then try and get some rest.” Suggested Will

“Reluctantly, I have to concede...” she sounded deflated, “Mr Fletcher needs to be removed from the rota...I've had to suspended him,” she raised her hand to prevent the Spanish Inquisition, “Suffice to say, I’ll fill you in on the details later and Birdsworth made a valid request that Anderson be able to attend Mr Taylor’s funeral however since Mr Channing remains unavailable, I'm reluctant to grant permission should the request be denied...”

Will cleared his throat loudly which caused Vera to look up at him, “Governor,” he addressed her by title, “I’ll be an adequate stand-in, in your absence now _go_ home and rest.”

 

* * *

 

“Fletch...wait, at least tell me what happened?” hissed Linda as she followed him like a second shadow around the house

“I’m on suspension, what more do you _need_ to know?” he barked in response, pulling open a drawer and throwing clothes into a large sports bag

“She must've had her reasons...she _can’t_ possibly suspend you, at least not without a good reason. You need to go to the union about this...”

“Linda, _shut up_!”

She sighed and fell onto the chair, this had not been the first time that Fletch had lashed out verbally which was normally when he was stressed and agitated. His injured leg that often cramped at night, ongoing recovery from emergency surgery and intense physiotherapy had prevented him from resuming running, a hobby that allowed him to burn off extra energy but helped to clear and focus his mind of the chaotic thoughts which plagued him with each passing mile, the screaming voices got quieter.

But, Linda had noticed an overall change in his demeanour since the trial of the former Governor, Joan Ferguson which he was forcibly removed for creating a disturbance then missed the opportunity of a promotion to Deputy Governor in favour of Will Jackson.

Yesterday, Fletch had asked Linda to cover his shift, vague on the details and muttered that he urgently needed to speak to an old friend; reluctantly she covered his shift and needed to rearrange plans of her own in order to accommodate the additional shift.

* * *

_When Linda arrived home, she was confused and angry by the drunken ramblings as Fletch gulped the amber fluid of a cheap brand of whiskey and coughed at the harshness of the alcohol that burned his throat._

_“I covered your shift so you could get pissed?”_

_His head lulled lazily over to one side, “I tried...make h-her understand...a mistake...” slurred Fletch_

_“Her? Mistake, who?” questioned Linda, unprepared for the current state of Fletch especially after she had worked a double shift_

_“I h-hurt...a-and, and she appeared...that bitch!”_

_“Who?”_

_“I-I...I punched her...f-felt...good.”_

_Linda gasped, her hands cupped her mouth, “You hit....a woman, who was she?”_

* * *

“I need to get out of here, I need space! I’ll be back...”

“Fletch? Where are you going? At least tell me where...” she continued to protest and followed him outside and watched as he threw the sports bag into the back seat of the car

Linda attempted to reach out, it had been tempting to slap him, slap some sense into him but Fletch threw his arms up, preventing her from touching him, “Just...it’s not you! I just need to sort out my head.”

* * *

Vera groaned as she slipped under the cool duvet and rested her heavy head into the soft pillow.

Since arriving back at her apartment and despite her woeful protests of leaving early, Vera secretly glad that Will had noticed that she was not well and reasoned for her to leave and rest while he took the burden of responsibility for a short time, prior to leaving, Vera left a list of duties for him to oversee which helped alleviate some pressure from her.

She had self medicated with Paracetamol and Ibuprofen in order to ease the sporadic muscular spasms while a soothing cup a Chamomile tea since her stomach grumbled for attention, not satisfied with the half bowl of soup that she had had for lunch. Her main priority was to rest them perhaps attempt a light dinner.

The closed blackout blinds eradicated the bright afternoon sunshine from her bedroom; it took a few second for her sight to adapt to the darkness. Vera plugged her mobile phone into the charge and changed the settings from ringer to vibrate, paranoid that Will or somebody may need to contact her and placed the phone on the bedside table.

After a few minutes, she rolled over in bed and stared up towards the ceiling then exhaled loudly in frustration. Her mind could have selected absolutely anything to occupy her thoughts before drifting off to sleep, anything in the world but instead her conscious mind decided to revisit a memory of Joan Ferguson.

 

* * *

 

_“I will annihilate you.” Threatened Governor Ferguson, her trembling hand clutched onto a printed photo of a young aboriginal woman_

_Vera looked perplexed at the mysterious and unknown woman, her wide eyes darted between the crumpled print out and Joan’s deathly stare that paralysed her. Their working partnership between Deputy Governor and Governor had changed significantly after their disastrous dinner that Joan had initially ordered Vera to attend after sensing tension from the younger woman._

_The dinner was taken in painful silence while Vera shyly picked at the side salad and sipped the Pinot that she had bought to the dinner instead of the Shiraz that Joan had ordered her to bring. Joan’s possessions were displayed throughout her home reminded Vera of a museum, expensive pieces of art and various sculptures with one framed picture of what Vera assumed to be a younger Joan with an older male figure, both were kitted out in white protective fencing clothing._

_Joan must have noticed Vera’s impassive expression as she observed her surroundings and had barely touched her meal._

_“Vera, you know that I’ve always wanted to be more than a mentor to you.” Opened Joan_

_She had reached for her glass of wine and when Joan began to speak, Vera gulped a generous amount of wine, reckoning she may need Dutch courage, unsure of where this conversation was heading._

_“I value our relationship. Let me explain why,” continued Joan, resting the cutlery and busying her hands, toying with the black napkin_

_Vera listened attentively as Joan hesitantly began and what appeared to Vera, a well rehearsed speech as Joan described how they worked well together and spoke of job satisfaction, their mutual respect and understanding of each other when it came to correction and how they were not dissimilar._

_Vera interrupted, “You don’t care. You have never cared about me.”_

_“I-I do care.”_

_Vera had recently learnt from Linda Miles then confirmed by Derek Channing that during the riot, Joan had refused to concede to the inmate’s demands despite the fact they held Vera as their hostage with a syringe containing blood, to her throat._

_“I have Hepatitis C.”_

* * *

 

Vera rolled back onto her side and closed her exhausted eyes, willing herself not to dwell about the complex creature that was Joan Ferguson. She felt herself riding an emotional wave as she remembered the night of their dinner and it _still_ pained to feel the warmth of Joan’s hand retract back quickly upon learning of her condition.

She sniffed and wiped away a single stray tear and prayed that she would not allow the image of Joan into her dreams.


	9. Chapter 9

 

 

It had been three days since Vera had surrendered and reluctantly followed the order, the friendly advice of her concerned Deputy Governor, Will Jackson who had eventually persuaded her to leave work early and rest. She was secretly grateful and took his advice; she returned to her apartment and crawled into bed.

Vera had originally planned to return to work the following day, fully refreshed with a renewed energy and determination but it was her _body_ that refused to cooperate, as if purposely defying her wishes. She finally admitted defeat and sent a brief text message to Will, apologising that he was required to oversee the general running of the prison for longer than she first anticipated but would return to duty as soon as she was well enough.

For two days, Vera had been confined to her queen sized bed as her body alternated chaotically between the polar opposites of a sweaty fever, where she thought she was cooking inside her own skin, unable to tolerate even the thin cotton material of her pyjamas against the perspiring skin to the violent shivering chills as she huddled her limbs tightly into the fetal position, under a multitude of layers in order to generate heat. Her exhausted eyes rolled behind swollen eyelids as her weary mind drifted between the planes of unconsciousness and tumbled into a blackened, dreamless sleep.

It was not until the third day when Vera felt the increased pain and pressure from her bladder that required her urgent attention and despite the protest from her body of her hurried movements, the first movement in days, going from horizontal to vertical, where she forced herself to leave the comfort of her bed and tentatively tip-toed towards the bathroom.

Vera inspected herself in the bathroom mirror, her hair was the typical bed-head while her skin appeared sunken and defined her cheekbones since it had been days that she had managed to consume and keep down a meal. Her eyes remained blood-shocked as she reached with a hand and touched her face, barely able to recognise the foreign reflection that greeted her in the mirror.

 _‘What’s happened to you?’_ she thought

She licked her dry lips, badly dehydrated and in desperate need of painkillers, she decided to venture downstairs towards the kitchen which felt like a marathon in itself. She used the smooth surface of the wall as means of support similar to that of a crutch as she painstakingly made the decent down the stairs.

Vera readjusted her sunglasses and tightened her thick cotton dressing gown around her slim frame as she shuffled towards the kitchen. She turned on the cold tap then leaned over the sink as if stranded in the desert for days, greedily welcomed the cool, refreshing liquid.

She opened the medicine box and threw the box of cold and flu medication onto the granite worktop then flipped the switch to boil the kettle and pulled herself awkwardly up onto the stool at the kitchen island, her head rested in her hands.

 

Vera groaned and looked towards the front door, silently preying that whoever was there would assume that she was not at home and leave but this was not the case as a powerful series of knocks hammered against the door which forced Vera to answer it. She neither had the energy nor was remotely presentable to greet or welcome visitors. Her tongue ran over the front of her teeth which caused her to grimace as she summoned the remainder of her energy, walking gingerly towards the door.

She felt herself sag heavily against the door as her legs weakened, her vision abruptly blurred as she reached for the keys to unlock the door.

As the door opened slightly, her hand quickly had to shield her fragile eyes from the sheering light despite the protection of her sunglasses; the piercing light aggravated a potential migraine. Vera squinted towards the visitor, “Will?” she asked, “There’s n-no...need t-to,” she slurred as her grip tightened on the door handle, fighting to maintain clarity and resist the sudden dizziness, “c-check...up on...” started Vera but fell into darkness

 

* * *

 

Vera felt her nose twitch and snuggled deeper into the bed. The aroma of freshly prepared food invaded her senses as well as her apartment which caused her stomach to noisily growl and slowly she opened her eyes. Vera frowned, this was not the surroundings of her bedroom and instead she found herself nestled on the leather couch with a cashmere blanket draped over her and was unable to remember even leaving her bed.

There was a noise from the kitchen which instantly alerted her that she had an unwanted visitor or an intruder in her home. Slowly, she pulled herself up and looked over the couch to find that she was not alone.

“What are... _you_ doing here?” she asked hoarsely

“You more or less collapsed at the front door, an overly dramatic way to greet someone, nonetheless, you _are_ ill.”

Vera snorted, “Isn't your OCD senses tingling, screaming for you to leave? Aren't you afraid that I may infect you?” she taunted sarcastically

Joan carried a small tray that contained a bowl of steaming chicken and noodle soup accompanied by a tall glass of water and a foiled packet of cold and flu tablets. She placed the tray in front of Vera on the glass coffee table then proceeded to sit down opposite her.

Vera raised an eyebrow and glanced between the bowl of soup and Joan. She noticed that the bruising, the injury sustained from Fletch who had punched her was not so prominent although there was a rainbow display of colours that was typical of how the body healed itself.

“I don't think arsenic and chicken soup went well together, I hope it doesn't spoil the taste.”

“It’s chicken _and_ noodle soup, actually.” Corrected Joan, overlooking the snide comments from Vera

“And pray tell what have I done to warrant  _this_ attention?” Vera gestured with her hand at the tray

“You look positively ghastly and despite the rumours of me being incapable of...caring. I could not simply leave you, you had collapsed and,” she eyed Vera scrupulously, “you have lost weight.”

Vera cleared her dry throat and held up her hand to silence Joan, “Alright, alright...I get the picture,” she nervously reached for the bowl of soup then glanced towards Joan, “I...appreciate...this.” said spoke carefully

 

* * *

 

“Why haven’t you been answering your mobile phone? I've been trying to get you for...”

“What?” demanded Vera cutting off his concern, “What’s wrong, did something happen at work?”

Will cleared his throat, “No, so far everything is manageable here, no issues.”

“So?” pushed Vera, turning away from Joan and attempted to lower her voice

“It’s Mr Channing, they've found him. Vera, they're saying that he...he’s dead!”

“W-what but...but how, when?”

“Wentworth’s close personal friend and everyone’s favourite reporter, Ms Jovanka...she broke the story in her usual tantalising fashion," replied Will sarcastically before quick to add, "his poor family.”

Vera pinched the bridge of her nose and closed her eyes as she remembered the conversation she and Claudia Channing had nearly a week ago, “Okay, Will...thanks for keeping me updated.”

“How are you feeling, Vera?” asked Will, changing the topic of conversation to something lighter

“Slightly better but not by much.” She openly admitted, “I’ll be back as soon as I can.”

“Vera, take all the time you need...I’ll hold down the fort for now, just take care of yourself.” He replied warmly

“Thank you, Will. Bye.” Smiled Vera then hung up the phone, her hand rested upon her chest

“Not bad news, I hope.” Inquired Joan innocently, her head cocked slightly over to one side as if carefully inspecting Vera

Vera opened her eyes, briefly forgetting that she had company, “Its Derek Channing, he went missing....but they've found him. H-he’s dead.”

“Oh!” replied Joan nonchalantly, her eyes momentarily widened  

Vera was taken aback by the frosty tone, “That's _all_ you have to say?”

Joan’s chin jutted out and her upper lip twitched slightly, “And what exactly, pray tell am I supposed to say?”

Vera shrugged her shoulders, “I don’t bloody well know,” she answered angrily, “maybe act like a human, you know...feelings and emotions.”

Joan felt her hands clench tightly into fists at Vera’s accusation, “I never particularly cared for that man, so why would I feign any concern for _him_...Mr Fletcher's close, personal friend...”

“So you’re glad that he's dead then?”

“Tsk Tsk, Vera! I _never_ said _that_ and what’s worse is to make assumptions, putting words into other people’s mouths.” Joan's tone was irritated 

Vera tutted loudly, “I'm merely picking up on the overwhelming contempt that is positively oozing from you...I didn't exactly see eye-to-eye with the man either  _but_ I’d never wish any harm to him...he has a family for Christ sake,” she gasped at the realisation of his younger children, “They must be devastated.”

“You pity them?” asked Joan

“Don't you? At least show some compassion...his children will grow up without their father in their lives...and...and well, personally I know how that feels.”

“Eat your soup before it gets cold.” Ordered Joan, suddenly changing the topic of conversation

Vera attempted to continue to argue but instead looked down at the remainder of the soup that she had eaten before Will’s phone call and lacked the energy to persist with their verbal sparring match

“Why are you doing this?” asked Vera quietly, nursing the warmth of the bowl between her cold hands

“Doing what?” repeated Joan, picking an non-existent hair from the sleeve of her thin cardigan

Vera stared intently at Joan, who remained impassive and unreadable. Her features gave nothing away, the perfect poker face. Vera knew that the former governor _always_ had a hidden agenda, an ulterior motive; nothing was ever simple or appeared to be as straightforward. It had been nearly a year since the trial where Joan was found not guilty and then simply disappeared now she had crash landed back into Vera’s life and now invaded her home as well as her waking thoughts.

 _‘But why, after all this time did she have to reappear?’_ thought Vera

“Don't play me for a fool, Joan,” her name rolled with ease off her tongue, “answer me! This is the second time you've dared to show up in my apartment...my life. I, at the very least deserve an explanation.” Demanded Vera

Joan’s manicured nails tapped steadily against the arm of the leather couch and crossed her legs, “It...It's complicated.”

Vera exhaled loudly, “Perhaps, it's best for the both of us...if you....”

“No,” interrupted Joan firmly, “You know how I hate to repeat myself, so I'll say it one last time, eat your soup,” her voice suddenly became softer and less threatening, “before it gets cold.”

* * *

An unstoppable wave of drowsiness crashed over Vera, who was slumped against the couch with the half eaten bowl of soup which was now cold, clutched in her hand. Joan remained seated opposite Vera and observed the younger woman as she battled to remain conscious but slowly lost the fight and tumbled into a world of unconsciousness, too exhausted to finish the remains of the meal that Joan had prepared for her.

The sun had long since disappeared into the horizon, Joan carefully eased the bowl out from Vera’s grasp and collected the tray then proceeded to head into the kitchen where she busied herself washing and drying the dishes. As she dried the bowl, she looked around in search of the bouquet of flowers that she had sent but the impressive display of flowers that Joan had carefully selected with Vera in mind appeared to be absent from the apartment.

The kitchen was immaculate and spotless, similar to her own kitchen, Joan returned to the living room to find Vera had moved now curled up in the corner of the leather couch, her steady breathing indicated that she was in the deeper state of sleep as her eyes rolled beneath closed eyelids. Joan shyly reached out and gently adjusted the cashmere blanket to cover Vera’s shoulder which caused the sleeping woman to twitch unconsciously in her sleep. Joan snatched her hand back as if she had been scolded by a naked flame, when she adjusted the blanket as her knuckles inadvertently grazed the exposed skin of Vera’s neck.

Joan nursed her hand and took an unsteady step backwards, away from Vera. Joan recalled her previous visit, a make-shift ice pack covered her injured nose to reduce the bruising and slow the bleeding. The ice slowly began to melt, the same substance that Joan had been described to be from disgruntled colleagues and angered inmates, she gained the title, the ice maiden.

The same substance that when exposed to heat would melt, Vera, the once timid Deputy Governor had slowly began to thaw her, twice stealing a brief moment of warmth contact, she just wished it had last longer than a few fleeting seconds.

 

* * *

 

When Vera eventually woke up, the apartment was in complete darkness minus the small lamp beside her. She held her breath with anticipation, listening for a sound, any sound to indicate that Joan remained in her apartment but there was silence and oddly, Vera felt deflated at the prospect of being alone again.

Vera shook her head, dismantling the thought, _‘No! No, she’s playing mind games again. Don’t let her back in.’_ Thought Vera

She stretched across the leather couch and yawned loudly, feeling slightly more human than she had done in the past few days. Vera blinked several times to clear the sleepy mist from her sight and noticed a small collection of post which lay neatly on the coffee table, she could only assume that Joan had arranged her mail, according to size with the biggest of the envelopes at the bottom. Vera tossed several unopened letters haphazardly back onto the coffee table, junk mail.

But, her heart suddenly hammered loudly when she recognised the handwriting of a particular envelope, the precious piece of mail that she had been waiting for and slid her finger beneath the sealed fold and ripped it open. Vera inhaled steadily then held her breath with trepidation as she pulled out a former looking letter.

“No, no....no! It...no, it can’t be...” stammered Vera loudly to herself as rubbed her eyes, making sure she was not dreaming or hallucinating.

Tears erupted and she clutched the crumpled letter into her chest.


	10. Chapter 10

_ _

 

 

_The silence was punctured by a heavy, intermittent vibrating sound while a bright light from the screen flashed incessantly which caused Vera to groan in protest and she pulled the thick duvet up over her head in a form of silent objection against whoever had dared to disturb her sleep. A hand snaked out from beneath the warmth of the bed-covers and pawed blindly over the various contents of the bedside table in search of her mobile phone, she refused to open her heavy eyes and instead scowled at the offending item in her hand, failing to notice the name that flashed upon the screen._

_“Yes?” yawned Vera, unapologetically for not answering in her usual, professional voice when answering the telephone or mobile phone but also rebelliously did not attempt to disguise the tiredness in her voice_

_“Hello Vera, its Diane...sorry if I’ve caught you at a bad time...but just looking over my schedule, I hope you haven’t forgotten to make an appointment for those repeat blood tests,” began Diane, as she double checked her diary, unable to locate Vera’s name, “the sooner those samples are collected and sent over to the lab, the better.”_

_Vera muttered her reply, incoherently, she still remained confined to bed as her body betrayed her and battled the painful muscle spasms, the flu-like symptoms had obliterated her energy which left Vera extremely exhausted. She knew the importance of the repeat blood tests, she had not journeyed through this hell for the sake of it but the thought of forcing herself to leave her comfortable bed, complete her daily routine and make herself somewhat semi presentable to venture out of her apartment was the furthest thought from her mind._

_“I-I was sleeping...my symptoms...t-the withdrawal had been...worse than...anticipated.” chattered Vera as her body shivered violently_

_Diane listened to the weak, pained voice from the other end of the telephone and quickly looked through her schedule of patients for the day, “Okay Vera...I can stop by your apartment later on, the additional blood samples will take...at most ten minutes to collect. I’ll have them prioritised and sent immediately to the laboratory...that way the samples should get processed and we’ll get the results back, anytime between twenty-four to forty-eight hours. How does that sound?”_

_“Please,” replied Vera, “I-I don’t want any s-special t-treatment....or for you to go...out of your way...”_

_“Nonsense,” stated Diane, “I make regular house-call all the time, so no issue. I wouldn’t have offered in the first place.”_

_“What time?” conceded Vera, secretly relieved, “So, that I may attempt to look somewhat presentable.”_

_Diane glanced at her watch, “I can be with you in an hour or so. I’ll make the necessary arrangements with our courier service for the blood samples to reach the lab.”_

_“Diane, thank you.” Murmured Vera tiredly_

* * *

_“Oh Vera!” gasped Diane as she was genuinely shocked by her patient’s dramatic change in appearance then mentally chastised herself, “Apologies but...well, you look...”_

_Vera snorted and tightened her thick cotton dressing gown around her cold, small frame, “You can say it! I look like shit...” she offered a small smile then gestured for Diane to take a seat, “Hell, I feel like death warmed up...even my hair aches.”_

_“Considering the length of time that you’ve been on the prescribed antiviral medication, I’d say it was pretty standard to experience at least some form of withdrawal...I can prescribe you an anti-emetic, if you’d like?”_

_Vera shook her head gently, “I think I’m getting over the worse of it...touch wood, I just feel lethargic despite spending most time sleeping.”_

_Diane rolled up the sleeve of Vera’s dressing gown and applied a tourniquet around her upper arm then used a small alcohol swab to cleanse the area. Her gloved hand tapped repeatedly against Vera’s skin like the drummer of a band in order to encourage the superficial vein to stand to attention._

_“Alright, you’ll feel a sharp scratch...” explained Diane as she pushed the cannula into the protruding median vein, in the bend of her arm. “Shouldn’t hurt or take too long, Vera.” She informed and removed the plastic cap from the cannula then attached a plastic labelled blood tube onto the cannula and watched as the tube filled with dark blood, once full, she twisted it off and attached another sample tube then repeated the process._

_“That should be everything, I have a friend at the laboratory who should be able to process these samples today...we’ll both receive the results and like I said, it shouldn’t take anymore than forty-eight hours,” said Diane as she disposed of the contaminated cannula and needle into a small yellow sharps bucket then placed a small flesh-coloured plaster over Vera’s skin where it had been punctured and pressed firmly, to prevent any further bleeding or a haematoma from potentially forming._

_“Now, depending on the results...will determine what the next step will be...although I have every faith that you’ll be included onto the trial but let’s just wait and see then we’ll take it from there.”_

_“Thank you, Diane...I-I feel as weak as a kitten and completely overlooked the repeat blood tests and...”_

_Diane held up her hand to silence Vera’s explanation, “It’s done now...but if you have any other issues then I want you to phone me directly,” she offered a friendly smile then collected her belongings, “I’ll see myself out, bye Vera.”_

* * *

 

Throughout the majority of Vera Bennett’s life, she was never graced with much luck at all even as a child. Her timid and mouse-like personality prevented her from making friends that in turn made her a loner however she found companionship in books. She spent most of her time in the peace and quiet of the library, from primary school to throughout her academic years until she graduated from university where she committed and fully immersed herself into her studies. In order to gain the highest and recognised academic merits, she studied methodically and meticulously, she was rewarded for her level of dedication and hours of painstaking studying with numerous distinctions.

If her small nose was not buried in an academic book, a related journal or article then very often Vera would cradle the hardback of a classic piece of literature or a fairy-tale romantic novel which fuelled and nurtured her imagination from such a young and influential age. The fictional novels were a constant source of strength, were her companions but served as a form of escapism from her mundane and almost empty life where she was forced to serve her dominating and emotionally abusive mother.

Amongst, her treasured collection of classical novels were Sense and Sensibility, To Kill a Mocking bird and Pride and Prejudice, to name but a few of her extensive collection and were the minuscule possessions that she had taken with her from her mother’s home after it was successfully sold. Vera, like an ugly caterpillar had shed her old skin, her old life and transformed into a newly emerging, independent butterfly. Part of her old life had either been sold or donated to various charity shops but she could not part from her much beloved books.

Her precious books would never judge her, humiliate her nor leave her.

Vera thought that her luck was finally beginning to change at the arrival of the new governor as announced by Derek Channing. Linda Miles had sneered and had dubbed the title of Governorship of Wentworth as a curse job as the much sought after title had claimed countless victims who assumed the role and dominated _that_ black leather chair in the office never lasted, one former Governor had even died while in service during a prison riot while the latest Governor had been discredited, her thoughts and beliefs regarding prisoner rehabilitation and correction were considered _too_ radical and _too_ liberal by her peers and the board.

The only thing Vera learnt of the newly appointed Governor was that she had an impeccable record, her reputation proceed her as Derek Channing had muttered something, a nickname as _‘The Fixer’_ as she had served at two other women’s correctional facilities which both held the titles of most notorious and violent prisons in the country but _she_ had changed this, somehow and that was evidence alone that the newly appointed Governor was a force to be reckoned with.

The older woman, who first introduced herself as Ms Ferguson, The Governor, was everything that Vera craved and idolised to be like as Joan commanded power, respect and to a certain extent was feared by her colleagues and inmates alike. Vera had even considered it a personal honour that someone _like_ Joan would approach and offer to be her mentor, to take Vera under her wing and guide her which the previous Governors that Vera had served under had not bothered or merely overlooked their shy, faithful Deputy Governor.

But, their partnership failed.

 

However, _now_ was the turning point in her life as her luck eventually changed as the letter that Vera clutched onto as if it were the winning lottery ticket contained written confirmation that she had been successful in meeting the strict criteria in order to participate in the Hepatitis C clinical trial. A stapled attachment provided all the additional information of an appointment at the local city hospital for further examinations, a wider range of extensive testing and detailed information regarding the experimental antiviral medication that she would soon be testing.

She continued to cry, overwhelmed at the prospect, her mind conjured up memories from the prison riot, where Lucy Gambaro was responsible or was the mastermind behind using a syringe of blood at her throat in order to bait the fearless Governor who refused to negotiate, throwing Vera to the dogs. The tears trickled down her reddened cheeks as she clung onto the letter for dear life, it almost made the hellish journey of the withdrawal from her previous antiviral medication worthwhile.

* * *

 

As the worst of her symptoms of her forced withdrawal from her Hepatitis C antiviral medication had passed, Vera remained absent from work. She wanted to wait until after the first appointment at the hospital before returning back to a normal routine, her mind refused to focus on anything else other than the beginning of the clinical trial, not sure what to expect or how her body would react to the experimental medication. Her thoughts were consumed that work and other aspects of her life were neglected although, it seemed almost _too_ good to be true and Vera waited for the other shoe to drop, obsessed that the decades long run of bad luck would strike again and at such a crucial time.

Vera glanced at her watch and hurried as much as her still recovering body would allow her to do so, still prone to the occasional sensation of light-headedness and nausea but she continued to with her daily routine, make her presentable and make a good first impression.

There was a sharp yet familiar series of knocks that sounded from the front door and Vera suddenly froze, her eyes widened in the hallway mirror, the black eyeliner pencil unsteadily shook in her hand.

_‘It couldn’t possibly be...’_

In her own apartment, somewhere that was supposed to be secure and a safe haven, Vera peered carefully around the corner and glanced towards the front door where she saw a tall, dark silhouette through the frosted glass, standing and waiting. She gasped which sounded faintly like a squeak and quickly cowered back behind the wall, Vera waited with baited breath while her heart hammered painfully in the tight confines of her chest. She was convinced that Joan could hear her pulsating heartbeat, knowing full well that Vera was purposely hiding from her, after all Joan had a sixth sense of being able to detect the slightly trace of fear in a person, Vera had never been able to hide her emotions that obviously reflected across her features.

Her fingers tapped nervously against the wall, time was a factor for Vera as she did not want to be late especially for the first appointment for the clinical trial but the thought of coming face to face with Joan, again. The intoxicating lure that hypnotically called out to Vera, _it_ always called out to her.

Joan Ferguson, the same powerful woman who had painstaking constructed and tugged gently on the strings of her little puppet of a Deputy Governor. She trapped and manipulated Vera into a spider’s web of deceit, lies and deception, Vera had been helpless to escape. She had been carefully shaped into a mindless pawn to serve an unknown purpose in Joan’s devious plan however Vera managed to escape as Joan’s own downward spiral into insanity, falling further and further away from reality.

But, how and why could Vera _still_ have the faintest trace of _something_ for Joan? The same sadistic woman who had threatened her with blackmail, talk of annihilation, humiliated her in front of her fellow colleagues with a very public and shaming display of a demotion then proceeded to out her recent health diagnosis. The same cruel woman who had offered Vera as a sacrifice to the hooded inmates that held her hostage during the recent prison riot and infected her with Hepatitis from a needle-stick injury, struck her hard across the face when Vera dared to challenge her authority and how during their awkward and ultimately catastrophic dinner the empty feeling as Joan jerked her hand away and failed to discreetly wipe the nonexistent contamination from her hand.

But, Joan, the same woman who had sent her a lavish and beautiful bouquet of colourful flowers as a gift of congratulations on the recent promotion to Governor of Wentworth then appeared like a knight in shining armour to protect her from Fletch who was practically unhinged, his anger blinded him from any and all logical reasoning and had tenderly looked after her when she had collapsed at the front door when Joan visited her for the second time.

There were another series of powerful and demanding knocks from the front door, Vera used her hands to shield her ears from the persistent sound and squeezed her eyes tightly shut. She refused to surrender despite how her body may have reacted at the thought of Joan or being in close hypnotic proximity to her former mentor and superior officer.

 

Then, there was silence and Vera slowly opened her eyes then uncovered her ears. She mentally cursed herself for acting like a coward and in her own home nonetheless.

_‘If and only if there is a next time you encounter Joan Ferguson...you WILL not be a spineless coward or a grovelling mouse! Grow a fuckin’ backbone and give her a taste of her own bitter medicine,’_

The tall silhouette had disappeared from the frosted glass however in its place was an ordinary card that was trapped in the letterbox. Vera approached the door with caution and pulled the card, her fingers trembled with anxiety.

 _‘Sorry, we missed you.’_ Read the card

Vera sighed with relief and realised that it had not been Joan at the door at all; instead it had been the neighbourhood’s cheerful, old postman who had worked the same route for the past number of years as she had learnt when she moved into her new apartment.

 _‘You’re getting paranoid!’_ scolded Vera as she rushed to lock the front door to make her appointment in time

* * *

 

“Hello?” answered Vera as she put the caller on loudspeaker while preparing dinner; her stomach actually welcomed the notion of food

“Vera...hey.” replied the voice of Will Jackson

She raised an eyebrow as she added a drizzle of vinaigrette dressing to the salad, “Hi Will, is everything alright?” Vera inquired and could not help but feel a solid ball of dread grow in the pit of her stomach, something had happened, she could sense it

“I’m okay, at least that’s what the doctors are telling me.”

“What?” she gasped, “Doctors?...Will, what happened?”

“There was an incident earlier today, a slotted inmate’s boyfriend wasn’t too happy at being refused to see his girlfriend, the bastard was mouthing off and threatened me as I escorted him out...and well, the bastard got the jump on me.”

“Oh, Will...t-that’s awful...did our security cameras pick up anything, have the police charged him?” she asked, nervously biting the inside of her lip

Will’s tone of voice, sounded obviously deflated, “There’s nothing the police can do...I know it was him but without evidence, it’s all hearsay...the bastard tried to run me over...”

“What about a number plate, maybe...” continued Vera

“It’s all a blur...I just remember getting jumped from behind... roar of the car engine and a black car as it sped towards me. I’d be dead if I-I...well, I’d be a dead man already!”

“If there’s anything I can do...” offered Vera unsure what else she could say other than offer moral support

“Thanks Vera, I thought it was best that you heard from me. The doctors think I’ll be back to my old self in no time...just some bruising but...well, I’m alright.”

“Just take as long as you need, Will.”

 

* * *

 

Vera felt herself slowly falling asleep on the leather couch, her legs tucked under her as she read _‘Emma’_ By Jane Austen. She bookmarked her page and placed the book onto the glass coffee table and finished the glass of water that she had sipped throughout eating her dinner, not wanting to tempt fate with a celebratory glass of red wine at the good news of participating in the clinical trial although no-one had told her that she should avoid alcohol so to air on the side of caution, she decided to forego the wine.

She switched off the lamp which provided the only source of light in the lounge and shuffled over towards the window, slowly her eyes adjusted to the darkness and she pulled closed the light material curtains. The inhabitants of the small cul de sac were friendly as Vera had encountered a few of them who welcomed her but most of them were full time working professionals and mostly kept to themselves, all mature couples or retired.

As she closed the curtain, she noticed movement in her peripheral vision as a darkly dressed figure walked down from her driveway, Vera frowned, unable to recall hearing the door but she had briefly fallen asleep on the couch. At first, she had assumed that it had been a neighbour until the person marched towards a parked vehicle opposite from her apartment and she grew more curious.

 _‘Is it? No it can’t be her, not again.’_ panicked Vera

Vera squinted through the darkness, the streetlights did not partially offer much to help her identify the mysterious figure although she had assumed it to be Joan but then again, earlier on she had thought it was Joan at her door when it had been in fact the resident postman. She _had_ to stop with this obsession.

The lights from the parked car flashed to indicate it was unlocked, the figure turned around to glance back towards Vera’s apartment for a brief moment before climbing into the car and quickly driving out of the cul de sac. Vera swallowed, her suspicions had been confirmed, the mysterious figure _was_ Joan but why had she attempted to visit _again?_ There were more questions than answered that plagued Vera’s thoughts.

 _“...and a black car as it sped towards me.”_ Echoed the haunting words of Will

Vera shook her head, she learnt of the truth from the trial and her own secret research of how Joan held Will Jackson personally responsible for the death of an inmate, Jianna Riley, who had her baby taken from her and placed into care. The exact nature of Joan and Jianna’s secret relationship was never fully revealed but there were numerous rumours that circulated within Wentworth and Blackmoore compounds between officers and inmates alike. After, years of serving as a social worker Will opted for a career change from a social worker but Joan, it seemed she never forgave Will, who she held accountable for Jianna’s death, as she committed suicide just days after losing her baby, unable to deal with the heartbreak but what Joan did not know was that their relationship had been exposed and the inmates lynched Jianna, who was strung up on display like a lifeless puppet for Joan to discover.

Surely, Joan would not have resorted to her previous methods and attempt to murder Will Jackson? Still demanding revenge despite knowing the truth that Jianna had been killed by her fellow inmates and not suicide as first suspected but it all seemed completely far-fetched but there seemed to be too many coincidences for Vera’s liking.


	11. Chapter 11

 

 

Vera stood completely still in the darkness of her apartment where she remained perfectly still at the window and witnessed as Joan elegantly got into a sleek black car and slowly drove out of the cul de sac.

The car disappeared into the distance leaving Vera alone, staring out into the darkness with the government issued eco-friendly streetlights providing the minimal source of illumination.

Eventually, after a few long moments Vera blinked and shook her head vehemently as if to dispel the lingering image of Joan then she backed away from the window and pulled closed the curtains before continuing with her nightly routine in a futile attempt to distract and place some distance from Joan but inevitably her mind aimlessly wandered back to thinking about _her._

Vera resisted, not wanting to journey back down that path again but the harder she fought then the more powerful the memories and thoughts of Joan began to resurface. She was betrayed by her own mind which seemed to obsessively revolve around her former mentor and governor but no matter how Vera willed herself to fight against the invisible lure, the gravitational pull that the older woman possessed over Vera was immense.

What had Joan been thinking, returning to her apartment?

On two separate occasions Joan had forced and situated herself back into Vera’s life which prompted her to immediately suspect Joan, after all nothing had _ever_ been completely clear and honest between the two of them, Vera had unfortunately learnt that the hard way. The realisation that she was nothing but a mere puppet and had been carefully and unwittingly manipulated into a faithful and doubtless Deputy Governor who followed her puppet-master despite the silent and internal struggle of her own moral compass.

She tried to think back to a time when she had not always been so “easily managed” but her duties pre-Governor Ferguson was otherwise occupied and dominated by her tyrant and emotionally abusive mother, sidestepped on numerous occasions by the board, often overlooked and underestimated by the previous governors who had come and gone and so the prestigious title of Governor of Wentworth was dubbed as cursed.

Her workplace and job which had once been something that Vera truly treasured, it had been a solace in her minuscule life but like everything else throughout her entire existence, it became a complacent routine. She had lost the spark of passion and enthusiasm for her now stalling career quickly diminished and Vera found herself on the precipice overlooking an abyss, caught solely between a cruel rock and toughened hard place.

 

* * *

 

Vera though back, vaguely, she remembered slowly closing her heavy eyes as the words on the page of her book blurred, usually she read in order to relaxed or for enjoyment however tonight she quickly fell asleep in the middle of a chapter.

 _‘Perhaps, it was then?’_ thought Vera

Little did Vera know that she had hit the nail on the head while she succumbed to unconsciousness for a brief moment in time, it _was_ at that precise moment that Joan announced her presence at the front door of Vera’s apartment but her authoritative knock against the door remained unanswered. Vera knew from personal experience that Joan demanded and expected things, she _never_ had to ask or wait for anything and could easily command those inferior to herself but _now_ there was no longer that prestigious title and she knew that Vera was indeed home, her car was parked in the driveway but she refused to answer the door. Vera guessed that it must have been a very bittersweet pill for the former governor to swallow.

 

* * *

 

When Vera woke abruptly from her brief doze, her neck ached due to the awkward position that she had rested against the leather couch. She turned off the lamp and walked towards the window, she witnessed Joan walking away from her apartment, down the driveway and towards her parked car. It was in that moment that Vera noticed _it._

Joan’s overall appearance was somewhat deflated, her shoulders rolled forward as if hunched while her head hung low which was the polar opposite to how Vera remembered her to be as the Governor, in her crisp uniform commanding the attention and respect of the staff and inmates and event when Joan stood in the courtroom, she remained confident and awaited the final verdict.

The darkness concealed the finer details of her features as Vera continued to observe from the darkened window, her gasping breath hitched when Joan paused momentarily at the bottom of the driveway and glanced over her shoulder back to the apartment which was devoid of light, Joan shook her head and continued towards her car.

Vera exhaled, her chest ached as she suddenly realised that she had been subconsciously holding her breath. She exhaled loudly before stepping away from the window after seeing Joan’s car disappear from view. Her slender fingers racked through her soft hair and gently pulled generous handfuls, tugging at her scalp in a desperate and frustrated attempt to deliberately distract her now racing mind which seemed to default back to the thoughts of Joan Ferguson.

But _why_ would Joan choose to visit her _again?_

Unless, she had an ulterior motive for her impromptu visits. Joan a _lways_ had a purpose, an agenda of some description which was a minuscule part of an overall elaborate and maniacal scheme and somehow Vera found herself unwittingly getting too close to the flame.

 _‘I’ve always been the moth to her flame.’_ she thought bitterly

She exhaled loudly again, the noise which escaped her lips sounded very much like a growl while her fingers relaxed and drew through her soft hair. In frustration, Vera snatched her mobile for some much needed distraction before she could even remotely contemplate heading to bed. Her fingers shook with the sudden jolt of adrenaline which pounded throughout her system; Vera adjusted the settings of the alarm for tomorrow morning and quickly busied herself by checking her emails which had been sorely neglected since practically being ordered home by Will during the initial stages of her forced antiviral medication withdrawal.

As an attachment from an email painstakingly loaded, her eyes drifted from the bright screen of her mobile phone over towards the front door where Vera suddenly attempted to recall if she locked the door or not when she had first arrived back home and like Homer Simpson, she “Doh!” mentally as it had fast became a habit to lock and secure herself in her own apartment.

Tentatively, Vera pushed herself from the arm of the leather couch from where she sat and inched herself towards the front door, she used the light of her mobile phone as a touch to chase away the darkness. She was secretly relieved to find _no_ envelopes, cards, etc protruding from the letterbox. Vera tried the handle of the door and smiled slightly to find that the door was indeed locked, she stifled a yawn when the email attachment failed to open.

 _Something_ pulled at her, piqued her curiosity or maybe she was just being paranoid? Either way, Vera found herself leaning against the door upon her tiptoes in order to reach the spy hole. There was an insatiable need to satisfy the sudden and increased curiosity, her fingers spread wide against the smooth surface of the front door, she closed her left eye and peered through the spy hole with her right and allowed a few seconds for her sight to adjust to the dimly illuminated street, “Oh no!” gasped Vera

 

* * *

 

Vera lay wide awake in bed with a handwritten card as her companion whilst her mind was flooded with numerous questions that hindered her conscious mind from switching off and eventually drifting to sleep.

 _‘Why visit? Why visit me at all? Why is she trying to be nice?’_ she thought

Joan had all but disappeared without a trace almost immediately after her trial where she had been found not guilty, the verdict was announced and she was cleared of all charges. Her lawyer, Nina Spencer had been worth the investment especially now that Joan was proven to be innocent as Nina had seamlessly dissected the testimony of everyone who had provided evidence and statements against the former Governor and _now_ after all this time, Joan was back in her life with a fierce vengeance having saved Vera from the verbal onslaught of a furious Fletch then had briefly nursed her after she had collapsed at the front door when answering it and finding Joan on the doorstep.

_‘What is her endgame this time?’_

She toyed with the crisp white card between in fingers as she lay in bed, carefully scrutinising Joan’s neat handwriting.

The small card had been embedded in another equally impressive bouquet of flowers which Vera had rescued from the chilly exposure of the night air before swiftly securing the door behind her. She shuffled into the kitchen and placed the glass vase containing the flowers on top of the granite island counter-top and stepped back to admire the bouquet, a sudden rush of déjà vu as this latest gift was similar to the previous floral gift that she had received in congratulations for her promotion however this latest gift was different.

* * *

 

 

The latest bouquet consisted of several large sunflowers surrounded by smaller daisies and was secured together with a simple yet elegant bow and held in a glass vase. Vera reached out to touch the baby daisy flowers and smiled softly at the thoughtfulness of the gift as she was particularly fond of daises, she used to make daisy chains and put them on her head where she pretend it was her crown and that she was a magical princess trapped by her mother whose role mirrored almost eerily to that of a wicked and jealous old witch.

So Joan had attempted to visit Vera yet again but this time came bearing a gift, the significance or meaning of the gift remained a mystery to Vera as she continued to stare at the bouquet. The arrangement was simple and perhaps maybe it would be something similar to what Vera might have bought herself in order to liven up her apartment. There was also a personal feel compared to the previous gifted bouquet that Vera instantly disliked, it was been pretentious and lacked subtly whatsoever, a show or a futile bid to impress her but this sunflower and daisy bouquet, well it pained Vera to admit but she actually liked it.

She spied a small white envelope and retrieved it, _‘Get well soon.’_

It had been a simple message and Vera frowned having noticed that it lacked _that_ personal or emotional touch but then she recognised the handwriting and blinked several times to ensure that her tired eyes were _not_ deceiving her. Joan _had_ personally written the card and delivered the flowers to her front door.

Vera yawned then rolled over in bed, she placed the card on her bedside table beside her charging mobile phone then reached up and switched off the bedside lamp.

Once again, she was surrounded by darkness. Vera put an arm under her head and stared up into the ink blackness that cocooned her. _It_ was starting to become complicated, Vera found herself treading water, _deep_ water and somewhere below her in the unseen depths lurked an unknown danger. An entity circled her like a great white shark stalking its distraught pray, slowly closing in and Vera had no means of escape.                           

 

* * *

 

Vera adjusted her black uniform jacket and picked off a stray piece of fabric from the sleeve, she carefully inspected herself in the full length mirror for the last time. She was fully prepared to resume her duties and role as Governor since she had been forced to take a leave of absents as the forced withdrawal of her previous Hepatitis C antiviral medication wreaked havoc and essentially rendered her incapacitated however the experimental antiviral medication although still early days, had no obvious side effects but Vera still had to remain constantly vigilant and document any or all aliments to the doctors and nurses assisting in the clinical trial.

She leaned against the kitchen counter and jotted down various appointments and meetings in her diary then set reminders in her mobile phone so to ensure that she would not overlook or forget. Vera reached the front door and glanced behind her towards the glass vase which still contained the sunflower and daisy bouquet, a soft smile tugged at the corner of her lips then she departed, ready to face whatever fate had decided to throw at her.

She was ready.                                                                                                                                              


End file.
